


Better For Everyone: Part One

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Multi, Self-Harm, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-07 10:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: The Reader spent most of her life with the Winchesters. She loves them like family but doesn’t feel like the feeling is mutual. When she is essentially kicked out of the Winchester clan, she is left physically and emotionally vulnerable to dangerous situations.





	1. Chapter 1

The motel door flew open and Dean threw his blood caked machete onto the wobbling table.  Sam came in close behind rolling his eyes at Dean who had flopped down on the kitchen chair and started picking at the superficial wound he had on his neck. Right before Sam could chastise Dean for his gross behaviour, he was interrupted by the motel door slamming shut. 

Looking toward the sound, Sam saw Y/N with her head cast downward staring at her hands with great interest. John was coming in from behind her and threw his duffle bag on the table next to Dean’s discarded weapon. 

Dean glances up at his father face and notices John’s eyes are closed as he takes a deep breath. Getting up from his seat, Dean knows he does not want to be between his father and the current object of his frustration, Y/N. 

Sam silently calls dibs on the first shower, hoping to avoid being pulled into in yet another argument with his father and his adoptive sister. 

John rounds on Y/N who is still fascinated by the dirt under her fingernails. Looming over her, Y/N peaks up at John from beneath her eyelashes then quickly averts her gaze when she notices the sneer cemented on his face. 

Too tired to deal with his father’s power play, Dean attempts to intervene, “Dad, relax everyone is alive. No one got hurt too badly... just the usual bumps and brui-”

“That is the  _ exact _ problem Dean!” John interrupted. “These ‘usual bumps and bruises’ happen way too fucking often because she can never follow orders,” John continued, never taking his gaze off of you. 

“John, I’m sorry but he was going to -“ you tried to interject but were cut off.

“Don’t apologize to me, girly.” John chuckled without an ounce of humour. “Dean is the one who nearly got a chunk taken out of his neck by that vampire bitch while he was trying to save your ass, again.”

“Dad -” Dean tried to offer you an escape but was quickly silenced by the levelling stare he got from his father. 

Turning back to face you, John silently waited for your excuses to start flowing. He waited for the tears, the apologies and the promises to be better. You have had this argument so often that by now it has a predictable script that each player follows. 

To John’s surprise you raise your head to look him in the eyes. He did not see the usual unshed tears or crestfallen eyes he expected. Instead, you looked at him with an emptiness that made his breath hitch in is throat. He quickly regained his steely demeanour and simply continued waiting for you to play your part.

Instead of speaking, you walked around John to find your duffle bag that was stashed beside the stained couch you had been using as a bed during the hunt. 

“What the hell are you doing? I’m not done with you yet,” John roared when he felt ignored. 

“Yes, you are,” you replied flatly. “You’ve been done with me for years. Pretty much since the day you took me in. You all have.” You looked back at Dean and Sam, who had emerged from the bathroom without you noticing. “I was never supposed to be a permanent addition to your family. You made that clear with all the times you tried pawning me off to other hunters or joked about how you would’ve left me at a fire station had you not thought I would wander off and get hit by a car.”

“Come on, Y/N. You know that’s just a stupid joke I make when I’m drunk and worrying about all these mouths I have to feed and keep safe,” John tried to justify.

“Yeah, Y/N/N. You know you’re family.” Sam tried to offer a reassuring smile to match his words but it had no effect on you. You had lived the truth far too long to be convinced otherwise.

“Do I?” You questioned emotionlessly. “When you took me in after my parents were killed by the poltergeist, I was only five. But, I still remember parts of my old life. I remember the warmth. I remember knowing with all my heart that I had love and support. I remember trusting them not to hurt me.”

“You don’t trust us?” Dean questioned in a stern and cold tone. 

“I trust you, all of you, with my life but I don’t trust that you actually care if I live or die?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Dean just literally put his neck on the line to save you,” John all but boomed. 

“You guys risk your life every day for complete strangers; but your world always keeps turning even if you lose them. I feel like I fall into that camp. Your lives will go on with or without me. And lately, I seem to be more trouble than I’m worth”.

As the last word left your lips you silently hoped they would all jump in to contradict you all at once. But, you knew better. 

After a few seconds of silence, that felt more like years to you, you reached down for your duffle bag again. Sam was the first one to be awoken out of his stunned state of silence. “Y/N/N, you have to know that’s not true! You’re like a sister to Dean and me. And Dad -“ Sam gestures in the direction of his father but all John does is narrow his eyes and tighten his jaw. 

“I’m just a damsel of the week that you’ve never been able to get rid of. I’m 22 now, Sammy. I’m not your responsibility.” You quickly interject to prevent John from saying something in return that would forever break your heart. You’ve always loved him as a father, despite knowing he could never love you as one of his own.

You walk over to Dean who refuses to look you in the eyes. “Dean, I’m so sorry I put you in danger tonight. You are the last pers-“

“Let her go, Sammy.” Dean interrupted without even acknowledging you were standing in front of him trying to apologize. “She wants to go off and find something or someone better, then see ya later, sweetheart.” Dean was annoyed with your reckless behaviour on the hunt but hearing you say you don’t trust him with all your heart after everything he had done for you, for your entire life, made his blood boil. 

“What? I wasn’t - you want me to leave?“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it felt as though it was already blocking your airway. You were simply just going to go stay in another room for the night. You were going to give everyone the chance to calm down and sleep it off. But, now Dean is suggesting he doesn’t want you to come back. 

“Maybe that’s for the best,” you heard John’s cold voice from behind you breath out. 

Your pride was telling you to just turn and leave and never let them see you cry. But, you couldn’t stop the broken words from leaving your lips “Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?”

“Like you said sweetheart, you’re not our responsibly. Go do whatever the hell you want,” Dean answers with daggered words.

“De-“ Sam, always the voice of reason, tried to intervene but Dean has already turned his back to you. Tears pricked your eyes and you lost what little composure you had left.

“What did I  _ ever _ do to you?” You thought your words would come out strangled with sadness but instead, they came out in a hurtful rage. You took a step forward to try and reach for Dean’s arm, to force him to look at you for the first time tonight. But the second you touched him, he whipped around and pushed your hand off him. 

“What about what I have done  _ for _ you, Y/N?” Dean sneered as he took a step toward you in anger. You refused to back down because you knew he would never actually hurt you. “I fucking raised you! Your whole goddamn life, I’ve protected you! I never asked for you, another mouth to feed, another kid to worry about and shield from the fucking nightmare we call a life. Sammy was and always will be my responsibility. You on the other hand...“ Dean finally looked into your eyes. “You were just a burden I was forced to take on. But like you said, sweetheart… you walk out that door and my world will keep turning. I don’t need you.”

You could only blink at Dean in response, causing a few stray tears to fall down your face. You opened your mouth to speak but the words had been knocked out of you. Your worst nightmare has become a reality. The man you admire most in this world thinks so little of you, resents you, to the point of wanting to be rid of you so bad he would condemn you to live on your own; a death sentence for anyone associated with the Winchesters. 

You heard the motel door open and you turned to see John standing there with his head hung in tired defeat. “Kid, I think we’ve all had enough for the night. I’ll call you in morning and we’ll... we’ll go from there. But for now…” he nods his head to gesture toward outside. “This is better for everyone.”

You nod absentmindedly, picking up your duffle and clutching it to your chest as you walk past the patriarch. You are looking, hoping, for a sign of regret but you are only met with a tired expression.

In the cold nighttime air, you flinch at the sound of the door closing behind you. Unsure of what to do, you look to see the ’No Vacancy’ sign lit up in neon red. You fumble with your bag, getting ready to simply walk to the nearest 24-hour diner. Then, you hear the door open again behind you. 

Sam emerges from the room with wide eyes that fall sorrowful once he meets your tear stained face. “Y/N/N, I don’t know…” Sam trailed off not sure what to say to you. He knew he wanted to come after you, but didn’t know what to say once he’d found you. 

You simply nod your head and give him a weak smile to reassure him that there is nothing he needs to say.

“Where are you going to go?”

Glancing back to the ’No Vacancy’ sign, you shrug and reply “I’ll stay close by. We’ll talk in the morning and go from there”. 

“Y/N, it may take more than a good night’s sleep to get over what was said. Dean is pretty pis- we’re all hurt by what just happened. This wasn’t a heat of the moment argument. It seems we’ve all been keeping things in for a long time. I wouldn’t get your hopes up that everything will go back to normal when the sun comes up.”

You try and meet Sam’s gaze to read what he’s trying to tell you as gently as possible. But, he now staring at the undone laces of his boots.

“Do you... are you telling me stay away for a while? Do  _ you _ want me to stay gone too?” You try to steady your voice but the hurt spills out unintentionally.

“I think everyone needs to take a minute. I mean you're obviously not happy with us-“ 

“That’s not -“ 

“Please, Y/N. It could be best for everyone,” Sam breathed out in a defeated tone. He was looking at you now, pleading with his eyes that you not make this any more difficult for him to say than it already is.

Hurting John and the boys was the last thing you ever wanted. You were disgusted with yourself for adding to their stress and burden. 

You will a smile onto your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes but hopefully it’s enough to ease the guilt that laces Sam’s voice. “I understand, Sammy. I’ll keep my distance. You guys deserve some uninterrupted family time for a while. You know how to reach me, you know... in case there is another apocalypse or something and you need an extra hand.” You try and joke but the corner of Sam’s mouth barely twitches upward as he nods in agreement. 

“Be safe, Y/N. Please just don’t go hunting by yourself or do anything reckless. Take this time to find out what you really want.” 

“I’ll try my best but you know how it is for us Winch-“ you quickly corrected yourself before you mistakenly called yourself an honorary Winchester “You know me, trouble seems to find me.” You try to playfully shrug to cover up the tightening in your chest.

“Please, just try.”

“I will. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Sammy. Well, I guess this is goodbye for now.” You stand before Sam waiting for the bear hug and kiss on the forehead he usually gives you when you’ve had a rough day. But, it never came.

Sam smiles sadly at you, reminding you again to stay safe while he hands you your knife that you had forgotten in the motel during your sudden departure. With a quick goodbye and a nod of his head, Sam disappears back into the motel room. Once again, leaving you alone in the cool August night. 

After walking aimlessly toward the center of town you stumble upon a diner but suddenly the idea of food makes your stomach churn. So, you keep walking until you reach a park with a wooden bench overlooking a small pond and forested path. 

Flopping down onto the bench, you expected tears to fall but they never came. You stared blankly into the water for minutes that felt like hours. You were roused from you numb state when something small jumps onto the bench beside you.

You look over and see a black cat sitting next to you, staring at you. You stare back and a faint smile plays on your lips. “Hiya, Cat.” You greet your new friend. The cat takes your words as an invitation and walks over to sit on your lap. You stare out into the water together. 

A calm settles over you as you stroke the cat’s body and hear soft purrs in response. Within a few minutes, the cat darts off your lap in the direction of the forested area and you breathe out a laugh. “Figures” you sadly smile to yourself.  

From the bushes in which the cat had ran off to, you hear an angry hiss and deep meow that sets you on edge. You get up from the bench and walk toward the thick greenery. You have always loved animals and wanted to make sure the cat hadn’t gotten himself stuck in the branches. 

Once a little deeper into the trees, you hear rustling that is too loud and disruptive to come from something as agile as a cat. You pull out your knife and turn around and are met with a fist colliding with your temple. 

Disoriented, you try to pick up your fallen knife but your hand is crushed under the force of a steel toed boot. You wince but look up to see the face of your attacker. You are met with a crooked grin and a “Nighty night, sweetheart!” before his boot released your hand and came down over your face, leaving you in instant darkness. 

Your assailant goes to collect your unconscious form off the ground when he hears tsking coming from behind him. 

A tall man emerges from the shadows of the trees, so the moonlight can highlight his masculine features. He leans against one of the trees and is holding the black cat that had lured you into the forested covering. He looks at the cat with an almost warm admiration while he scratched the felines ears. “You’re a good little kitty, aren’t you?” the man all but cooed “I think I’m going to keep you.”  

With a dramatic turn of his head, the man holding the cat was now looking over at your body still sprawled out in the dirt. “Looks like I got  _ two _ new pets tonight!” the man continued with a gleeful smirk, and more excitement in his voice than was probably necessary. 

His smile instantly fades when he looks over to your attacker who is looking at him with slight fear in his eyes awaiting instruction.

“Don’t just fucking stand there. Get the girl and load her in the truck. Then, go get the shit she left over by the bench, especially her phone.” The man then starts to walk away mumbling something inaudible to the cat that was still curled up in his arms. His lackey scoops you up and starts carrying out his orders. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The world seemed heavy. As you regained consciousness you couldn’t help but notice the heavy ache that thrummed in your head. You attempted to open your eyes but the task seemed unnecessarily difficult. So you instead, you chose to stretch your arm out to try and feel the ground beneath you to stabilize yourself. 

Your movement did not go unnoticed by the inaudible voices that were in the room with you. The voices stopped and you heard heavy footsteps getting louder and therefore closer. 

You tried to lift yourself off the ground but your shaking limbs were useless. A gentle hand came to sweep your Y/H/C hair out of your face and place it behind your ear. You flinched at the contact causing a chuckle to come from the owner of the retreating hand.

“Morning, Pet. I was afraid that idiot knocked you around a little much and I would never get to see those pretty eyes. What do you say, can you open your eyes so I can see if I won the bet?” the man softly spoke to you.

You turn your head to face the gentle voice and are finally able to open your eyes to barely a squint.

“Come on, you can do better than that, Pet” the man encouraged.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and when you opened them you were face to face with a man who was crouched in front of you with a smile plastered onto his handsome face.

“Well, hot damn… I just won 50 bucks!” the man said while staring into your Y/E/C eyes and widening his smile. “But trust me, Pet. The real prize is looking into those beautiful eyes,” he sang as he reached out to caress your cheek.

You scoffed as you pushed his hand away. Even though it gave you a splitting headache, you couldn’t help but instinctively roll your eyes at the cheesy line he just offered you. 

Instead of getting angry like you expected he would, the man merely let out another chuckle and rose from his haunches. 

“The name is Jonas” the man all but bowed in his greeting. You glanced to the men behind him and Jonas continued “Don’t worry about learning their names quite yet, Pet. We’ll all get to know each other in due time.” 

“Y/N,” you tried to rasp out but you throat was too dry.

“I’m sorry what was that, Pet?”

“My name is Y/N. So, you can quit it with the condescending nicknames, asshole.” You confidently bit out in an attempt to disguise the fear that is quickening your heart beat. 

That irritating chuckle slipped Jonas’ lips yet again “Now, now, Pet. Don’t be rude.” He leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I like your style, Pet. I do really, but don’t be mean to me in front of my men… because then I’ll have to go all macho alpha male and teach you to behave yourself. And, I don’t wanna do that quite yet, sweetheart” he pulled away laughing again and patted your knee, a gesture too friendly to match his threatening words. 

“Sorry,” you whispered out with downcast eyes, unsure if he would hear you. But, you promised Sam you try to stay out of trouble and it was usually your big mouth that makes things worse for you. So, you thought an apology would help your case. Jonas did hear you though and looked at you with narrow eyes until a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips. 

“Anyway, Pet, let’s cut to the chase, I need your help with something.” Jonas said while clapping then rubbing his hands together. 

“What can I do for you?” you responded with a chipperness that was laced with sarcasm. 

“I’m going to ignore your tone and get to the point: you are bait. Plain and simple. I know as far as evil plans go, it’s not very original. But it’s a classic for a reason... it’s effective.”

“I am assuming this has to do with the Winchesters?” you ask in a bored tone.

Jonas merely touches his nose then points back at you with a wink and that goddamn smirk.

You roll your eyes again now more tolerant of the pain and let out a little laugh. “Well, good luck with that. Although, I think you running on old intel. They won’t come for me but by all means… give it try.” You gesture your arms in a waving manner. 

“Oh, they’ll come. They always come for their damsel.” 

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

“Confidence is key,” is his only playful response.

* * *

 

Dean walks over to where his brother is sitting at the table in the motel room. Dean reaches over and steals the mug sitting in front of Sam taking a sip then spitting it back into the mug with a look of disgust on his face. 

“Dude!” Sam protests. 

“Ugh, that's not coffee,” Dean groans as he pushes the cup back to his brother.

“It’s green tea, you jackass! What the he-” Sam starts but is cut off by the glare sent at the two of them by their father who is on the phone and trying to write something down. Both boys silently wait for their father to finish.

“We got a case,” John asserts before even hanging up the phone. 

“Where to?” Dean questions after rummaging through the kitchen area and tossing aside the bottle of whiskey he had polished off the night before.

“It’s a salt and burn, only a couple hours West,” John replies.

“Alright then,” is the only response that is needed for each Winchester to start packing up and start heading out. 

Out in the parking lot, John is packing his truck and asks Sam to bring him the blanket they keep on the back of the Impala so he can hide the treasure trove of weapons John has in his passenger seat. 

Opening the back of the Impala, as Sam reaches for the blanket he sees your whale shaped change purse on the floor in the backseat. He sighs while mumbling a profanity to himself. 

He emerges from the backseat with no blanket, but is instead holding the little purse that each man loved to tease you about because it was so girly and childish. 

John’s eyes narrow at Sam but then roll once he notices the whale he is holding.  

“What are we going to do about Y/N? Do we leave her here or try to find her so she can tag along?” Sam inquires.

John runs a frustrated hand down his face and shakes his head “I didn’t think we’d be leaving this soon - I forgot about all that shit.”

Just then Dean rounds the corner, finally holding a real cup of coffee. When he sees what Sam is holding, he realizes what the two men are contemplating. 

“Leave her here,” Dean offers the simple solution.

“Dean-” Sam starts but is cut off by his brother.

“Relax, Sammy. We’ll only be a few hours away. We’ll come back for her when we're done. We just all need some breathing room. Just text her and tell her we’ll be gone for a bit.”

Sam looks to his father who merely shrugs and states, “It’s better for everyone. Now go grab that blanket.”

* * *

 

You had fallen asleep again but were now being awoken by something rough licking your hand. You jerked your eyes open to see the same black cat who had lured you to capture sitting in front of you. You reach out your hand and chuckle out a “Hiya Cat”.

The door to the room you are confined to opens and Jonas’ happy face comes waltzing in. “How are my two favourite girls?” he asks with a teasing glint in his eye. 

“We’re just awesome. Thanks for asking,” you retort as you sit up to lean against the dirty wall behind you. 

“Do you even know why you’re here? Why I have such a hate on for the Winchesters?” Jonas asks as he pulls a chair over and sits in front of you. 

“Did they kill some of your monster friends? Screw up your evil plans to rule the world? What kind of monster are you anyway? You look human but that don’t mean you are one.” There is genuine curiosity in your voice. 

“I can answer all your questions with a little bedtime story,” he responds with a smirk.

You roll your eyes in preparation for another villainous monologue by yet another egomaniacal monster.

“Long story short -“ Jonas starts once he sees you’re not too interested in the whole backstory. “I was a petty thief, never had much in the way of family. I picked the pocket of vampire one fateful night and well-“ Jonas bared his vampire teeth for dramatic effect, making you flinch. “The rest is history. I decided to start my own family… one that wouldn’t leave. We would love each other and be happy blah blah blah” Jonas leaned back in his chair clasping his hands on his lap. “We lived happily ever after, that is... until last night.”

“I knew that nest was oddly small,” you said mostly to yourself. 

“The trick to hunting vampires is to make sure you clear the _whole_ nest, not just one outpost otherwise all you do is piss off the remainder of the pack,” Jonas suggested.

“I was there too. Why not just get your revenge by killing me and leave the Winchesters out of it?”

“Because, Pet, you didn’t kill any of my family. You may have been there but you were too busy almost dying to actually kill any of my people.” 

“That’s not -“ you tried to defend yourself but Jonas just laughed at you. 

“Relax, kid. I know you’re a tough cookie. There's no need to get you panties in a twist,” Jonas interrupts. “Besides, there has been a change of plans.” Jonas pulls your phone out of his pocket and lets you read the text you got from Sam an hour or so earlier.

_ Hey Y/N/N _

_ We got pulled into an emergency hunt that’s a few hours away. We’ll come back but I think we could all use this time to clear our heads. _

_           -S _

“Now Pet, I don’t like this just as much as you won’t but my boys are itching for blood and retribution and so on,” Jonas adds with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t worry, they are user strict instruction not to kill you. But, I ain’t gonna lie to you sweetheart… this is going to suck”.

Jonas leans down to squeeze your knee and looks you in the eye with an expression that you would consider almost contrite had you not known better. 

Before you can respond, Jonas is turning to leave the room.

“Wait!” You call after him making him turn again. He is expecting to hear your pleas for mercy but instead you stand up and pick up the black cat that was laying by your feet. “Take her. Keep her away from what’s about to happen. She’s innocent and I don’t want those assholes hurting her to hurt me,” you whisper out as you place the cat in his arms. 

You oddly enough trust him that he wouldn’t turn on you and hurt the cat now that you had admitted you care for her. Jonas merely narrows his eyes at you in disbelief that you care more for this random cat than you do your own safety. 

Rendered speechless, Jonas nods and leaves the room. The door is left open and a few seconds later four men with various instruments and weapons enter your prison, slowly backing you into the damp corner of the room.

 


	3. Chapter 3

You are jolted into awareness when a bucket of cold water is dumped over your resting body. You assume the water was mixed with vinegar seeing as how there is an uncomfortable stinging that occurs as the water drips into your open wounds. You squirm in the chair you are currently tied to. However, it is merely a fruitless attempt to alleviate the stinging because you cannot generate enough friction.

You stop your movements when a cold hand comes to rest on your thigh. You keep your head down knowing that eye contact will only make it worse but you know who the hand belongs to. You have gotten to know your torturers very well over the past week and can identify them by their touch even when they have you blindfolded.

Liam, the man currently holding you still, moves his hand up your thigh to push his fingers into the bleeding wound his knife created only hours before. You bite your cheek in an attempt to stifle a wince. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of your cries. Liam pulls his hand away and licks the blood from his fingers. You can almost hear the smirk on his face as he moans with delight.

Through wet lashes you risk a glance upward and see Jonas standing in the opposite corner of the room staring intently at you with harden eyes. If you didn’t know better you would say he looked as pained as you felt.

Just then someone from behind you gripped your hair and jerked your head back, Noah by the feel of it. You notice that you are trapped between the two men, unable to move an inch.

Liam leans forward with his knife and moves closer to your face. “What do you think those Winchesters will do when they come back to find we’ve mark up your pretty little face - making it so they can’t even recognize you anymore, bitch” Liam spat as the knife grew dangerously close to your eye.

“ENOUGH!” Jonas boomed when he realized what was about to happen. “I turn my back for one minute and you break the fucking rules!” He shouts as he moves to shove Liam away from your waiting body.

Jonas knocks the knife on ground and it slides to the far corner of the room, forgotten by the men but noted by you. The glare Jonas sends Noah causes him to release your hair.

“Sorry Boss but there ain’t nowhere else left to cut on her” Noah tries to justify as he gestures to your blood caked body.

Running a frustrated hand down his face Jonas tries to calm himself “I know you boys needed to let off some steam -” he spoke louder so the whole room could hear “we all lost family in their raid of our outpost. Some of you lost mates and I - I can’t even imagine that pain but you are done with her. No more.” Jonas states plainly.

The men know better than to question their maker, even questioning him with their eyes never ends well. So, they silently agree to obey.

“Out!” Jonas demands and your series of torturers leave the room swiftly but not before Jonas orders one of them to bring you a fresh set of clothing.

As soon as the door shuts behind the last lackey, Jonas spins around to untie your arms and legs. Your heads bobs in exhaustion. After over a full week of nearly constant cutting, slashing, ripping torture you forgot what it was like to have control over your own body again.

“How’s the cat?” You ask with a weak but amused smile on your face.

Jonas looks at you with curiosity for a second before realization hits and he chuckles out a response “the little shit wakes me up in the middle of the night purring in my goddamn face until I stroke her back to sleep. I have half a mind to make kitty stew if she wakes me one more time”

“You wouldn’t dare” you retort playfully “you’re too attached to her. You can’t hide that from me”

“Then I have half a mind to make Y/N stew, for you dumping the thing on me” he responds cheekily as he undoes your last confinement and lifts you out of the chair.

“Now THAT is a lot more likely” you try to say but it comes out shaky and with a wince since the movement of your broken body caused a surge of pain to wrack through you.

You notice Jonas’ jaw tick at the sounds of your discomfort but he tries to distract you from your pain by keeping you talking, “Why the hell are you talking to me like this after all the shit I put you through?”

“You never touched me”

“No but I let it happen. Your all cut up and gross because I allowed it to happen. I stood here and watched you get sliced and diced for over a week straight. You should be trying to kill me, not letting me tuck you in” Jonas reasoned as he placed you down on your thin and bloodied mattress.

“Killing you is too much effort” you joked as you attempted to stretch your legs out as for as they were willing to go considering the pain. “Besides, you stood here and watched me all week and stepped in when they were going too far. I know you were merely protecting your leverage or keeping your bait alive but I appreciate it nonetheless. We’ll see what happens the day I’m no longer useful to you - but we’ll deal with that when we get there” you speak absentmindedly as your eyes close and your exhausted body slips into much needed sleep.

Jonas moves a stray piece of hair out of your face then pulls your cell phone out from his back pocket to read over the text you had gotten from the Winchesters only a few minutes before and which sparked the change in circumstances. His jaw tightened as he read it over and looked down at you with almost sorrowful eyes before there was a knock at the door and Liam walked back in with a change of clothes for you.

Wordlessly Jonas takes the clothes and shoos Liam away before walking back over to you to dress you.  

When he finished, he looked over your shrunken body in the oversized material and sighed when he saw your face scrunch up in your fitful sleep. “I know Pet” he says as he stroked your hair one more time. He then rose from the floor and left the room to let you sleep for a couple hours. He didn’t notice when your phone slipped out of his back pocket and onto the mattress beside you.

* * *

 

You awake in familiar motel room. Wrapped up in the sheets you shared with Dean the night before. You were forced to share a bed when the front desk clerk informed you that there was only one room available and it had two double beds and the couch was far too unseemly for anyone to spend the night on. You stomach flipped at the prospect of sleeping so close to Dean. You’ve done it many times over the years and every time you felt so safe. You never sleep better than when your sharing a bed with Dean Winchester.

Unfortunately, your giddiness was stifled by the fact Dean looked visibly annoyed with the idea of being stuck sleeping so close to you. You tried to ignore the stinging feeling that crept into you lower stomach when you saw his less than pleased reaction but it’s always been hard for you to just shake off Dean’s dismissal of you.

As expected, you had a restful night’s sleep but you soon realized you were completely alone in the motel room. You notice a note propped up on the nightstand.

_Hey Sleepy Head_

_Dad and I took off for the hunt early to get a head start. Go to school and STAY OUT OF TROUBLE. We’ll be back when we’re done. See you then._

_-D_

You roll your eyes and flop back down on the bed. You are used to being left alone while Dean and John go off on a hunt together but it doesn’t mean you don’t get bored and lonely from time to time. Especially ever since Sam left you behind to go to Stanford. He’s been gone three years and you miss him just as much as you did in the first few months. You haven’t heard from him since he left so that only adds to your missing him. You tired calling, emailing, texting every day for the first year he was gone. You gave up when he never returned even one of your attempts at maintaining contact.

Looking at the clock, you groan when you realize you were supposed to be at school 45 minutes ago. Getting ready as quickly as possible you head out to play your part as a normal high school student.

The days pass in haze of monotonous routine and limited social interaction. You noticed that without your family around you could go days without speaking a word to anyone and when you finally get the chance to talk to someone your voice cracks from lack of use.

You soon realized that John must have forgotten to leave you some money or a stolen credit card to buy food. You hated the idea of stealing but once you ran out of quarters to use in the motel vending machine you had no choice but to steal food. You only stole enough to keep your stomach quiet during school hours, so your teachers wouldn’t get that pitiful look of concern and stick their noses where they don’t belong.

Dean and John had been gone for almost a week and you were hungry, tired, and lonely. So, when a cute guy in your class interrupted your thoughts to ask you to the upcoming Halloween dance you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face at the prospect of being noticed by someone (and maybe raiding the snack table at the dance).

The night of the dance, you put on a red dress that you bought a while back because it looked similar to a dress a girl from one of Dean’s magazines wore. You never had the confidence to wear it in front of him so you were going to use tonight as a trial run.

You put on a pair of devil ears and gave yourself a quick once over. Not the most original costume but the devil headband was the only thing you could steal from the dollar store unnoticed.

Surprisingly, you had finished getting ready a little early so you sat on the bed and waited. You kept waiting. You gave your date 30 minutes of being late before you texted him. Turns out he had gotten back together with his ex and in their dramatic reunion he had forgotten he asked you to the dance.

That hurt. But back then you considered yourself a Winchester and that meant you didn’t want to cry over your broken heart. You wanted to drink. At 17 you knew that no bar would believe your fake ID so instead you rummaged through the stash John left behind.

You weren’t a big drinker but you could hold your own. Except for tonight. Tonight, you let loose.

You had polished off a good portion of John’s whiskey when the motel door opened and the two Winchester’s came walking through the door laughing.

Both men stopped in their tracks when they saw you standing on one of the beds with blankets thrown about. You we’re still in your costume and had a hair brush clutched in your hand as a microphone. You froze when you noticed you had been seen but once the chorus for AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’ came back around you couldn’t help but continue belting out the carefree lyrics.

The two men had an amused smile playing on their lips until John noticed the source of your uncharacteristic behaviour. The whiskey bottle was open and half empty on the nightstand. John came rushing over and pulled you from the bed. The floor came hard and fast against your stumbling body.

You know you messed up but your brain was trying to catch up to reality when you heard John yelling a string of frustrations. Something about no longer trusting you alone and how you’re a stupid and immature kid. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but it hurts all the same.

Dean notices you’re not in the right headspace to take John’s verbal attack so he steps in and offers to put you to bed so you can talk more coherently in the morning. The sound of the door slamming and John storming out of the room signals you to finally lift your gaze off the floor.

Dean starts helping you up and lets out a laugh “What the hell are you wearing?” He says with an amused smile.

“You like my dress, Dean?” you ask with a sly smile and a slight whisper.

“Yeah sure thing sweetheart. But seriously what’s with the get up? You got a hot date or something? You look kinda ridiculous” he continues as he sits you up on the bed.

Your heart pangs at his comment and decide against telling him about how you were stood up - not wanting to look any more pathetic than you already feel. Instead of replying you just huff and start to wiggle yourself out of the dress in a sloppy attempt to get ready for bed.

Dean freezes as you throw your dress on the floor and angrily drag your half naked body up the bed and toward the pillows.  The second your head hit the pillow Your alcohol infused brain and its lack of inhibition takes over. “I’ll be 18 in a few months D” you almost whine out.

“I know when your birthday is kid, don’t worry I haven’t forgotten like I did last year, I swear”.  Dean reassures you as he hesitantly tucks you in.

“No” you huff out. “You don’t get it! I’ll be 18… as in legal” you wink at him.

“What are y-“

Your eyes close as you’re getting increasingly sleepy “I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been saving myself for you. Only you D. It always been you” the last part comes out in a whisper as sleep takes you over.

Dean was stunned into a catatonic state. When he finally processed what you had said he ultimately decided to spend the night on the decrepit couch and away from your unconscious and half naked body.

You awoke by having an old flannel tossed at you and John’s angry voice “get the fuck up and get dressed. I hope you liked your little party last night because it ain't happening again. MOVE IT!” he bellowed when your hungover body slumped over the side of the bed. As he walked past your bed he bumped into your dangling leg and you tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor.

You saw Dean’s boots come to stand in front of you. You expected him to help you up off the floor but instead he mimicked his father tone and said “Y/N hurry up we gotta be Colorado by sunset tomorrow”.

He walked away leaving you dizzy and on the floor. You don’t know what really happened last night that made them so snippy toward you but the short temperedness and dismal of your wellbeing lasted for years to follow.

* * *

 

You are jerked awake by the pounding sadness that plagues your unconscious mind. When your mind catches up with reality and you realize where and when you are. You scoff to yourself that despite the days of endless torture your true nightmares come in the form of letting down the people you consider your family - even if they don’t see you the same way.

You uncurl your broken body and as you stretch out your leg you hear something small clatter off the mattress and onto your floor.

Lifting your upper body and leaning over you realize it was your cellphone. You blink in disbelief for a moment, then you wonder if this is a trap to get you to lure the Winchesters there. Ultimately you decide to take the risk noting that you can warn them it may be a trap and you also know that the Winchesters can handle anything.

Pressing Dean’s number, you raise the phone to your ear but hear nothing but beeps. Pulling the phone away you realize there is no service in your concrete prison. Hoping you may have better luck via text you open your messages and your heart forgets to beat when you read Dean’s most recent text to you, sent no more than a couple hours previously.

_Hey Y/N_

_We finished the salt and burn a few days back and caught another case in the next state over. We haven’t heard from you so I’m assuming you're enjoying your time off. We all talked it over and this time apart has done us all some good. We were thinking of making this little vacation a little more semi-permanent. Contact us if you get yourself in trouble but otherwise…keeping our distance may be better for everyone._

_\- D_

Unable to look away from the words in front of you, you don’t know what you should do. You scroll through your phone in desperation but quickly realize that in the whole week you were gone you have no missed calls or texts from either John, Sam, or even Dean.

You stare at your phone knowing you _should_ reply and tell him that you’re in trouble and need their help. You _should_ swallow your shame and admit you once again need saving. However, your fingers have a different plan. Your fingers instinctively know you can’t go back to being a burden on those you love. Before you know it, you have typed out and sent the following message:

_Sure thing D, I understand. I’ll always understand. I do love you though. I love all of you._

_Goodbye._

You wait a couple minutes for a reply that never came. You blink away the tears and steel your face as you take a deep breath. You raise your sore body to a standing position and walk toward the discard knife in the corner of the room. You grip the handle as tightly as possible debating what to do when you see your phone light up.

You rush over to your decrepit mattress and with hopeful eyes scan your phone for a sign of hope.

_See ya around, kid_

That is the final farewell sent by the man you admire most, the man you have harboured undying devotion and deep seeded love toward for what feels like your entire life. You know you should have not expected more but you were always a sucker for false hope.

You drop the phone beside you but notice your still holding the knife. You glance to the door of your prison then back at your acquired weapon. You smile to yourself knowing that deep down you never had any intention of attempting a prison break and taking on a nest of vampires with a switch blade was never going to end well for you.

That is a fight you know you can’t win. In addition, you had lost all the fight you had left in you with Dean’s final text.

You hold the knife in your less dominant hand and start cutting into your opposite arm. Before you lose your nerve or ability to do so you switch hands and slice down the other arm as well.

The shock and fear of what you have just done fades and flows out of you with every strangled heartbeat. You lie down on the mattress to slowly watch your livelihood slowly seep from your veins and you no longer feel the pain. Any pain at all.

Jonas is on the main floor with his nest-mates going over plans on what to do now that the Winchesters won’t come looking for their bait. Jonas instantly tenses and sniffs the air as if alarms had just gone off in his mind.

His lackeys look at him with confusion and are about to question him when he takes off down the stairs without a word.

As you slept Jonas always kept an ear open for your steady heartbeat, making sure your wounds didn’t take you while you slept. His blood ran cold, colder than usual, when he heard your heartbeat quicken then fade to nothing but a faint thumping. That mixed with the sudden surge in the unmistakable smell of your amazing blood ignited an unfamiliar fear in Jonas.  

Crashing through your prison door, his body was stunned into an unmoving state when he saw the blood pooling around your limp form and dripping onto the floor. Your eyes slowly blink shut for what feels like the final time when you hear the distant sounds of someone yelling your name.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Two Years Later _

Jonas sits at the head of a large table with his signature smirk plastered on his face but an almost undetectable sense of worry in his eyes. He is pulled from his thoughts when the large doors across the room swing open and five of his vampires come in struggling to tame and hold down three rowdy Winchesters. 

John, Sam, and Dean each have their arms bound and a gag in their mouth to stifle their incessant threats and sarcastic banter. Jonas sits up straighter to address the new arrivals. “How many did they get this time?” he asks his bruised and bloodied comrades.

“They took down nine of us before we were able to subdue the dirty bastards” one vampire responds as he kicks John to his knees. Sam and Dean are also soon pushed down to sit on their knees as they await further instruction. 

Jonas runs a frustrated hand down his face “Secure them and then leave us. We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Jonas orders as he smirks at the Winchester patriarch. 

Once each Winchester is shackled to the floor and the four men are left alone, Jonas claps his hands and rubs them together motioning that he is ready to start the long night they have a head of them. 

“Well, I have to say, it took you guys long enough to find us! I have to admit, I was worried you Winchesters had lost your touch!” Jonas playfully suggests as he makes a theatrical stride over to his captive audience.

Dean mumbles something from behind his gag so Jonas saunters over and pulls the fabric from his mouth.

“What was that, Deano? You gotta speak up for the whole class to hear you,” Jonas taunts as he leans an ear toward Dean.

Dean smirks and repeats himself without the cloth barrier in his mouth “I said, you’re being a little harsh… we tracked you and your cronies down three days after catching wind of the dropping bodies and arriving in town. We made pretty good time… if I do say so myself.” Dean uses a self-satisfied and overly prideful tone in an attempt to catch his captor off guard but that is not what Jonas notices in Dean’s rebuttal.

“Wait a second… your here, breaking down my front door and killing my family all for the walking, talking blood bags we’ve dropped since we’ve come to town?” Jonas asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah, why the hell else would we stop by for a visit. It ain’t like you vamps are known for your hospitality. We didn’t stop by for some iced tea and chit chat,” Dean replied as if the answer to Jonas’ question was obvious.

The playfulness has now immediately left Jonas’ demeanour. His jaw ticks at Dean’s words and he walks over to lean his forearms on one of the chairs and bows his head in an attempt to reign in his rage. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Jonas breathes out with a humourless chuckle. “Here I thought you assholes finally pulled your heads out of your asses and came for her,” Jonas said mostly to himself but the Winchesters heard him. They gave each other looks of curiosity and confusion. 

“Came to get who?” Dean asked since he is the only one able to say anything audible.

Jonas snaps his head toward the man who interrupted his thoughts. “Two fucking years,” Jonas shakes his head. “She stopped waiting for you. She has a new family.” 

The Winchesters stare at Jonas with wide eyes, all of them can guess who he is referring to but each man needs to hear Jonas verbally confirm their fears. 

“Y/N?” Dean weakly breathes out. The name is unfamiliar on his tongue. They have not spoken about you in so long but that doesn’t mean you have strayed too far from each of their thoughts. 

“Bingo,” Jonas touches his nose then points to Dean. “I’ve had her since the night you sorry sacks kicked her pretty little ass to the curb.” Jonas strides over to crouch in front of Dean whose entire face has hardened, all remnants of that self-satisfied confidence is gone. Jonas glances to Dean’s left and right to take in the sorrowful, angry, and shocked faces of the Winchester clan. “I guess I should thank you guys!” Jonas says in a cheeky tone “You know… the whole one man’s trash is another man’s treasure kind of thing,” Jonas adds with a lick of his lips. 

Dean’s lips fall into a hard line and he narrows his eyes “You son of a bitch,” Dean growls out. 

Jonas jumps to his feet and kicks Dean in the chest making him fall backwards “No!  _ You _ are the stupid sons of bitches who let her go!  _ You _ hurt her! Not me.  _ I _ am her family!” Jonas loses his teasing tone and lets his rage come out in full force. Taking a moment to compose himself, he continues in a calm yet stern tone “She is mine.”

The Winchesters can only gape at the man with wide eyes. Their guilt and regret has rendered them speechless. Dean pushes himself back to a seated position and breathes out heavily. “Where is she?”

Jonas scoffs “ _ Now _ you care?” and with a roll of his eyes he doesn’t expect an answer so instead he continues “She’s in bed. But I think she’d be up for some company. What do you say we see if Sleeping Beauty wants to come out and play?”

* * *

 

You weren’t sleeping. You could never sleep whenever Jonas wasn’t next you. You’ve never told him that because you didn’t want him to know just how dependent you were on him. He had a job to do and didn’t need to be worrying about you, more than he already does. You simply stroked the sleeping cat that was curled up next to you until Jonas came back for you.

You were playing with the lace at the bottom of your nightgown when you heard the doorknob to your bedroom start to turn. You quickly shift yourself into a sleeping position and pretended that you had just woken up. To your surprise, it was Liam who entered the room and not Jonas. 

“What the hell, Liam? Knock much!” You say as you cover your body with the silken bedding and away from the intruder’s stare. 

Liam rolls his eyes at you and simply reiterates Jonas’ demand. “Get up girly… we got visitors and Jonas wants you to help him entertain our new guests.”

“Why-?“ you start to question as you get yourself up and off the bed and reach for your clothes.

“No questions. And, he wants you to come right now, as you are. So, you won’t be needing those,” Liam interrupts as he gestures to the dress you were about to put on.

“What the hell? No way! This nightie barely covers anything! I’m not meeting new people with my ass hanging out and boobs on display for the world to see!” You raise your voice and cross your arms across your chest when you notice Liam is no longer talking to your face. “Exactly my point!” You say as you turn to throw your dress on but Liam grabs your arm and takes the dress from you. 

“Boss’ orders,” Liam says now staring you in the eye a little too intensely. You know Jonas has strict rules about no one hurting you, but you also know Liam hates you and is itching for an opportunity to take you down a level.

You pull your arm away and hold Liam’s gaze for a moment before walking towards the door. You hold your head high but in your mind, you are insecure about your current state of dress, or undress is more like it. 

Over the past two years, Jonas has helped you overcome your insecurities around your body. He never fails to tell you - and show - you just how beautiful you are to him. The first time you were naked in front of him, every instinct you had told you to cover yourself, hide your imperfections, or suck in your stomach. Your face turned red with shame because you expected him to hate what he saw just as much as you did. But, he didn’t. He loved your body in ways that you thought was only possible in works of fiction. Now, you were not only comfortable with him seeing you completely exposed, but thrived under his stare. 

However, now was a little different. The light blue and silky slip you wore didn’t leave much to the imagination. You know it is Jonas’ favourite and you should not be ashamed, but you are  _ his _ . Only he should see you like this. But as usual, you are quick to obey his orders. Making Jonas happy, pleasing him, that’s all that matters. Everything else, all your self-doubt, falls away. 

You walk into the dining room and see Jonas sitting at the head of the table. When he smiles at your entrance, your cheeks heat up. You all but  skip over to him. He leans back in his chair so you can take your rightful place on his lap. You sit sideways draping your bare feet over one armrest and wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into his chest. He kissed your forehead as you hummed happily into his neck. 

“Hi,” was all he said with a soft and loving smile playing on his lips. You let out a small giggle in response before you remembered why you had been summoned in the first place. 

You perk your head up in sudden fear and embarrassment. You look around the darkened room for the visitors you were supposed to meet. Your eyes fell on three kneeling figures in the darkened corner of the room. You couldn’t make out any distinguishing features and their ominous presence made you tense in Jonas’ arms. 

“Easy, Pet,” he cooed. You visibly relaxed at his words and waited for him to explain. 

Turning you so you could face him, Jonas continued. “I need you to stay calm, Pet. You’ve been doing so well for me the past couple years and I need you to remember that I’m never going to let anything happen to you. But there is a chapter of your old life we need to close before we can be together. Forever”. 

You tensed again but this time it was because of Jonas’ words. ‘Forever’ holds a lot of implications in the mouth of a vampire. You had discussed the possibility of him turning you, so you could be together forever, but you never wanted to be a vampire. You loved being his mate but didn’t see why it was necessary that you change. You loved him and that would never change. Noticing your apprehension, Jonas holds you closer and you hear rustling coming from the dark corner. You instinctively turn your head to the noise but Jonas guides you face back in his direction with the soft touch of his fingertips on your chin. 

“Do we have to talk about this now?” you whisper to your mate.

“Yes, Pet. You know I don’t want to upset you, but something has come up.” He gestures for you to stand up and takes your hand as he guides you to the darkened corner. Jonas turns the lights on in the room and you stop in your tracks. You attempt to pull your arm away from Jonas believing that if you run back to bed, then you’ll realize this was all a dream. However, Jonas’ firm hold on you grounded you in reality. This was real. The Winchesters are really here.

You look to Sam who has wide eyes that in a certain light look like they glisten with unshed tears. You turn to John whose stare cuts through you just like it always has. You can’t bring yourself to look at Dean. Even just imagining the look of disgust on his face is enough to reopen any wound that has healed in the last two years. 

When you duck behind Jonas’ broad shoulder as a shield against your former family’s gaze, Jonas turns to lean over and cup your cheeks in his large palms “I know this is hard, Pet. But, they are only here so my girl can finally get closure.”

You meet his gaze with watery eyes “Please let them go,” you plead. “They were fine without me and we were happy without them. Let’s just continue being happy. We don’t need them. I forgive them. They lead me to you. It was better for everyone.”

Jonas shakes his head solemnly. “Sweetheart, I can’t let them go. Now that they know your here… their do-gooder hero bullshit won’t let them just walk away, they are Winchesters after all.” Jonas tries to reason.

“They let me go once. They’ll do it again” you look over at the three men bound and kneeling on the ground “I thought myself a Winchester once, so I know they won’t like leaving me behind. But I also know family comes first and if forced to make a choice, they will choose each other over me.”

Jonas smiles sadly at you. “I think you underestimate the power of their hero complex, Pet. They can’t walk out of here alive and I think you should do the honours” Jonas adds as he unsheathes the knife on his hip and hands it to you.

“What? No! Jay, I won’t do it!” You try to pull away from him. “Please I’ll do anything, just let them go!” You hear rustling coming from the men but keep your gaze on Jonas to let him know that this is nonnegotiable and you are not going to back down.

“Anything?” Jonas smirks as he pushes your body against the table behind you and runs his hand up your leg. 

“Don’t be gross,” you give his shoulder a small shove and he just laughs as he backs away to walk toward the boys. “You can turn me,” you breathe out and that catches his attention as he turns back to face you. “You can turn me,  _ if _ you let them go unharmed. You can have me, all of me… forever”.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. But Pet, you know extortion isn’t my thing. I’ve never pressured you into anything and I sure as hell ain’t starting now, especially when it comes to ending our life.”

“But it’s not the end. I want to start my life with you. I’m yours. I want to give you everything.” You walk closer to him and place your palm on his cheek and he leans down to smell your wrist. “Please, I want you to make me yours, all yours. Turn me, mate me, breed me I don’t care as long as I’m with you. You saved me.” Not one syllable of your words is a lie. True, you want Jonas to have mercy on your former family, but even more so you want to make your mate happy because that would make you happy.

You hear a low growl escape Jonas’ throat but it is cut short when Dean snaps his thumb out of place to slip his hand through the handcuffs binding him and lunges toward Jonas. However, Dean’s ankles are still bound therefore his surprise attack was unsuccessful. Hearing the commotion, the guards standing outside the room come in to subdue the wild Winchester. After letting Dean take a few hits, Jonas’ finally listens to your pleas and he signals his guards to back off. 

“You think I’m the bad guy here, don’t you?” Jonas asks the now bleeding Winchester. “All of you, you think you can just-“ Jonas runs frustrated hand down his face. “You broke her. I picked up the pieces. You-”

You lightly touch Jonas’ arm, “Jay, let them go. It’s time to let go.”

The building anger in Jonas fades with your touch and he turns to face you once more. “Go back upstairs, Pet,” Jonas demands. “I will send them on their way.”

“Do you promise you won’t hurt them, because if you so much as-”

“You’ll do what?” Jonas asks playfully. “Relax, Pet. I will not hurt a single strand of hair on their heads.” 

You nod and walk over to where the Winchesters are now being held down by the guards because they had become too restless. You get to your knees in front of Dean and raise a hand to wipe away the blood falling from beneath his eye. You’re not sure why but it is easier to face him now. You can look him in the eye. Maybe because it’s the last time you’ll ever see him or you know you found a true home with Jonas, either way you held his painful gaze for another moment before you got up, sparing a glance to the other two Winchesters and walked out of the room trusting your mate to honour his promise.  

The second the door closed behind you, each Winchester steeled their composure to face the man before them. Jonas turns back around dramatically after watching you leave. “Well, you heard the lady I am not allowed to hurt you guys! But we both know it’s not that simple. She may have been a hunter but she’s still innocent enough to fail to see the hard realities. However, I am a man of my word. So,  _ I _ won’t be hurting you but I cannot say the same for these fine gentlemen standing behind you,” Jonas said while leaning his body to the left and gesturing to the other vampires in the room.

Jonas crouches down to get right in Dean’s face “Try not to think about the fact that while you are being slowly tortured to death, I will be upstairs fucking and then draining the life outta our little lady. But don’t worry-“ Jonas pauses to raise his hands in a playfully defensive manner. “When she comes back as one of us, I’ll bring her back down to see if any of you folks are still alive and we’ll see if she’s feeling a little hungry.”

Jonas is about to get up off the floor when he instead inches toward John and in a whisper intentionally loud enough for everyone to hear he says “Did she ever call you Daddy? Because man to man, if she did…” Jonas sucks a breath in through his teeth “I don’t know how you ever controlled yourself. Every time she says it… I can’t help but bend her over the-” before Jonas can finish his thought John head-butts him causing him to stumble backwards. 

Lying on his back Jonas lets out a soft chuckle before getting off the ground “You know, the more you get me riled, up the more I’m just going to take it out on Y/N,” Jonas states matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry though, we both know she likes her punishments a little rough,” Jonas continues as he wipes the blood from his lip and winks at the men kneeling before him. Turning to leave, Jonas waves to the men in the room “Have at it boys! Have fun! Fuck knows I will be,” he adds mostly to himself but knowing everyone could hear him. The door slammed shut behind him leaving the Winchesters in the capable hands of his cronies. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

You sit on your king-sized bed and stare at the black cat whose green eyes are piercing through you. Green eyes. They remind you of Dean’s eyes and you think back to when you left him only minutes ago. There is a small pang of sorrow creeping into your heart at the thought of never seeing him, any of them, again but you know this is for the best. You belong with Jonas. You were never really a real Winchester anyway.

When the door to your bedroom opens, you painfully peel your eyes away from the cat, you just want to feel the warmth her green eyes provided you with forever. As Jonas enters the room, the cocky and teasing front he shows the world melts away. He kneels at the side of the bed between your dangling feet. This man is the leader of his pack. He can be cold, demanding, and even a little scary when he needs to be. However, when it’s just the two of you, you’re able to see the warmth, the kindness, and the love he buries beneath the arrogant smirk he cements on his face to keep his family safe.

“Y/N/N… I’m sorry… I wish… I never wanted-” Jonas tries to apologize but you stop him by slipping off the bed and sitting on his lap.

You curl into his chest and breathe out “You were right… you were an asshole for springing it on me like that and you know I hate how you’re always an asshole in front of other people… but you were right. I needed to say goodbye to my old life,” you lift your head up to look him in the eyes so he knows you’re serious “I meant what I said, I want to be yours… forever”.

He captures your lips in a kiss that was so full of need yet there was absolutely no rush to it. You had eternity. You shift your body so you can wrap your legs around his waist and he lifts you both off of the ground. Placing your back onto the bed he hovers over you, moving your hair out of your face.

“I need to hear you say it, Pet. Tell me you want this. Once it’s done, there’s no going back – I would never force you to go through with your promise if you weren’t -”

“I want this. I want to be like you. If it means I can be with you – I want to die for you, so I can live with you… forever,” you breathe out while cupping his face to keep his eyes locked with yours.

Jonas’ fangs emerged from his gums but you felt no fear, this is right. He nears your neck at an agonizingly slow pace, partly in an attempt to tease you but also giving you enough time to back out and change your mind. Just as you feel the warmth of his breath on your racing pulse point, the cat jumps off the end of the bed and lets out a blood curdling meow followed by a long hiss.

Jonas lifts his head from your body “That fucking cat of yours-” but before he can finish his thought there is a commotion heard in the halls. Shouting. Crashing. The shattering of glass. Jonas flops his forehead down into the crook of your neck and lets out a frustrated groan. He reluctantly pulls himself away from you and starts heading toward the door. “Fucking Winchesters,” he huffs out.

“Don’t go!” you grab his arm and attempt to pull him back further into the room. You don’t know if you are trying to protect Jonas from the Winchesters or the Winchesters from your mate. But either way, you don’t want the blood of your loved ones to be spilled.

Jonas pulls your hand from his forearm and kisses your wrist. “I’ll be back for you, Pet. Stay here and lock the door. Don’t come out for anyone. I love you, Pet.” He says placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. You stand in silence for a moment as Jonas leaves the room in a hurry. The sound of the door being locked from the outside shakes you from your state and you rush over to try and open the door to no avail. You continue to hear the muffled sounds of fighting for what feels like an eternity.

You pace the room clutching a letter opener, not believing you would actually be able to use it on anyone. No matter who walks through that door, you could never hurt them. 

You’re pulled from your worried thoughts when you hear the doorknob giggle. Then a series of crashes followed by the door ultimately breaking open. A bruised and bloodied Dean Winchester comes bursting through the door. You allow those familiar green eyes to burn into you for a comforting moment before your instincts take over and you run toward the bathroom to lock yourself away. Unfortunately, Dean’s long legs make him quicker than you remember and you’re tacked onto the bed.

You turn in his hold, struggling to get away but his strong arms keep you from getting too far. So, you decide to plead with him instead. “Please, Dean. Don’t- don’t kill me,” your eyes tear up out of the fear that Dean thinks you are just another monster to be beheaded. You weren’t his family, he made that clear two years ago. Now you were running with a pack of vampires, the hunter has every reason to take you out too. 

Dean recoils at your words, pulling himself off of you but keeping you close enough to stop you from sprinting away. “Y/N/N, I’m not going to hurt you – I would never – we’re getting you out of here,” he says in what’s supposed to be a reassuring tone.

You shake your head adamantly. “No! I’m not leaving!” you try to turn and crawl to the other side of the bed, away from the man who wants to take you away from your new-found happiness. But, Dean grabs your ankle with one hand and pulls you back toward him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But we don’t have time for this! We have to go!” Dean tries to reason with you as you struggle and whine out pleas to be let go.

Dean picks you up and throws you over his shoulder when he realizes you won’t come with him willingly. “Put me down! Dean stop, please! I’m happy here! Leave us alone!” you punch at his lower back and try kicking your feet but he has a strong arm wrapped around your calves keeping you still. You grab at the floor lamp, the book shelf, the door frame, but being upside-down makes it nearly impossible to get a good grip on anything.

You’re being walked back to the dining room when you hear the muffled voices of John and Sam coming from inside the room “Is that all of them?”

“Yeah, I think we got ‘em all. Now, we just need Dean to bring-” you heard Sam get cut off as Dean brought you kicking and screaming into the room. The two men looked at you in shock. They had all assumed you were putting on an act when they saw you earlier and you would actually be happy they came to rescue you. But, your tear stained face and the fact Dean could barely restrain your squirming body informed them otherwise. 

Dean went to put you down on the table and John piped up when he saw you were still in your light blue lingerie. “Jesus, son. You couldn’t have let her put some fucking clothes on first?”

Dean was struggling to keep you still on the table. “Well, pardon me! She isn’t exactly in a cooperating mood if you haven’t been able to tell! Plus, you try and keep her under control with a dislocated thumb… a little help here!” Dean said as you wiggled out of his grasp and slipped off the table.

You ran to the opposite side of the room knowing there was another door that lead to the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks when you rounded the table and saw Jonas’ body lying on the floor. His head was a few feet away.

His fangs were not out, he looked like the man you loved, not the monster the Winchesters assumed he was. You had never seen his eyes look so empty. He always had a lively sparkle that dusted his clear honey coloured eyes. You used to tease him that that sparkle was the power source of his individuality and it always shone a little brighter whenever he was feeling mischievous. He used to look at you and you’d instantly feel warm, safe. But now, now that sparkle – that source of light in your life, was snuffed out. Now, he just stared right through you.

You felt like you were going to be sick. You thought it was bile rising in your throat but it was actually a painful scream followed by uncontrollable sobs. Your legs buckled from beneath you and you hit the ground in a shaky pile of limbs. On trembling hands, you crawled closer to your mate. You reached for his hand when you felt someone touch your shoulder. 

“What did you do!” you scream while holding his cold hand to your cheek. “Why couldn’t you let me be happy!” you feel yourself being pulled away from the bloodied body of your mate but you refuse to let go.

You make desperate pleas of resistance, to be left alone, for them to leave you or kill you too. But your words fall on deaf ears as you are pulled from the ground and into Dean’s arms. You clawed at the ground as you lost your grip on Jonas’ hand. You scream and whine at the feeling of his fingers slipping from yours, for what you know is the last time. 

You punch and scratch at Dean’s arms and chest, you kick your feet wildly but he refuses to let you go. Dean just holds you tighter, closer. He doesn’t move or try to carry you out of the house. He knows he has to wait until your mind accepts what you just saw. After a while, you stop struggling, less out of acceptance and more out of exhaustion. What was left to fight for? You felt drained. Your limbs got too heavy for you to control on your own. You end up slumping into Dean’s chest, unable to hold your own sobbing body up anymore. 

You aren’t aware of your surroundings but the next thing you know you’re being put into the backseat of Baby. Unable to hold your own weight, your head falls onto the seat and you breathe in the familiar scent of the leather seats.

You hear Dean throw Sam the keys, telling him to drive. The men stand outside the car and in hushed voices decide that they will meet back at the motel before they leave town.

A sudden panic rushes through you and gives you enough adrenaline and strength to lift yourself off the seat. You open the opposite car door and slide onto the ground. You pick up your shaky limbs and begin sprinting back to the house. Sam is the first to notice and starts running and yelling after you. But you are a girl on a mission.

You race back up the steps, avoiding the room in which the body of your lover lays, knowing if you see him again you… you just can’t. You enter your bedroom and begin frantically searching. A few seconds later Sam comes bursting through the door and sees you on your hand and knees trying to reach something under the bed.

“Y/N, what are doing?” he asks calmly so not to startle you but Dean and John come crashing in behind him. Sam holds his arm out to keep them back because he knows keeping you calm is the only way to get you out of here.

You raise from your knees and turn to face the Winchesters. You are clutching a black cat to your heaving chest and you slowly start walking out the door leaving the Winchesters alone in the room with dumbfounded and unsure looks on their faces.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and are instantly pushed onto the floor that is covered in painful shards of broken glass. You look up to see Liam standing over you with bloodied clothes and gashes on his face and neck “Bitch!  _ You _ did this! He’s dead- they’re all dead... because of you!”

“I didn’t-” you tried to reason but you knew this was your fault. Liam knew it too. In anger, Liam reaches down and rips the onyx cat from your secure grip. You scream in protest but Liam places his large boot over your chest to keep you down. Holding the cat by her neck, he spits out “You and this fucking cat… ever since either of you showed up we were all goners! You got us all killed”.

Just as Liam was about make you watch as he snapped the feline’s neck, you were filled with a sudden flood of rage. You have had enough death for one night. You didn’t want to lose anyone else. You gripped his ankle and large piece of broken glass and sliced his Achilles heel. He toppled over you, pinning you down in a grunt of pain.

“You stupid bitch…I’ve been waiting for this” he says as he reached down to grip your throat. The cat had come running over and bit his arm but she was thrown to the side. You threw weaker and weaker punches as the oxygen quickly left you. Finally, you heard the barrelling footsteps of the Winchesters and they quickly pulled your attacker off of you and rid him of his head within seconds.

Coughing and struggling to pump air into your lungs you flinched when a comforting hand landed on your back. You pushed the hand away and rose to your feet. You brushed off the back of your arms and legs and heard the little pieces of glass embedded in your skin fall away.

“Jesus, girly,” John huffed out in a slightly impressed tone when he saw Liam’s ankle. “That’s just nasty,” he tried to laugh to lighten the mood.

With an expressionless gaze, you walked over to the dining room door with your cat trailing close behind. The men hesitantly followed you. When they entered the room, you were struggling to pull Jonas’ heavy body toward the exit.

Without a word Sam came over to lift Jonas’ body up for you and carried it outside. You looked back at his head, and as if the remaining Winchesters could sense your apprehension they both reached for the head to carry it for you. Dean carried the rest of your dismembered lover outside while John took off his flannel and draped it over your shoulders and guided you to follow the boys.

Once outside, the boys had placed Jonas’ body on the ground and started building a fire. They both thought this was more than the sick bastard deserved, they thought he didn’t deserve a burial but they knew you needed it. You couldn’t leave him like that.

You watched his body burn for a long time. You held your cat tightly to your chest burying your face into her fur for comfort. You didn’t want to be there when the flames died out and all that would be left was a charred skeleton, so you turned and got into the backseat of Baby. The boys took your movement as a silent signal that it was time to move on.

As Baby got farther and farther from your home, the flames that enveloped your mate looked like mere orange flickers that eventually faded into the horizon. The long ride back to the motel was silent. Dean opted not to sit in the back with you, to give you space, but he rode shotgun to keep an eye on you as you stared blankly out the window.

“What’s its name?” Dean asks.

“ _ Her _ name is Cat,” you respond.  

“Cat? You named your cat…  _ Cat _ ?”

You smile to yourself as you think back to all the times Jonas had teased you about giving her such an unoriginal name. Your smile faded into a tearful frown when you then remembered that he used to tease you about how you would have to be a little more original when it came time to name any children you would potentially have in the future. That future as gone now.

From the look on your face Dean knew not to ask any more questions. He knew they would need answers from you soon. But, not now. Now, you just needed him to be a silent comfort until you were ready to open up.


	6. Chapter 6

John had made it back to the motel room before you and the boys. When the Impala pulled up, John was waiting outside for you. He guided you into the room looking over his shoulder and around the parking lot for any suspicious figures lurking about.

“You got them all. They’re all gone,” you say to John to placate his paranoid behaviour. “My whole family… they’re all dead,” you continue in an emotionless tone and in a voice so low only Sam caught what you said because he was standing directly behind you. If you could see his face you would see instant concern and sadness wash over his features. ‘Family’ is a strong word to a Winchester and Sam wondered just how broken you must be to use that word to refer to a lowly nest of vampires.  

“Just making sure, sweetheart,” Dean says as he locks the door behind his father, obviously not having heard all of what you said.

There is an awkward silence that envelops the room. No one knows where to start. It had been two years. Each Winchester is so flooded with guilt about not looking for you, nor even trying to call you in that time, that they have nothing to say. No excuse. So, you break the silence. 

“Why now?” you let Cat out of your arms so she can explore the room. “Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Everyone was better off the way things were,” you bite out more harshly than you intended to.

“Y/N, you were living with vampires… he was going to turn you,” Sam said hesitantly, afraid to set you off by bring  _ him _ up but it was too late.

“I loved him!” you snap “You had no right to barge into my life after two years of radio silence and just rip away the first bit of real happiness I’ve had in my life since – since ever! They may have been just another nest of vampires to you, but they were my family!” this time when you said the dreaded ‘F’ word you are shouting loud enough for everyone to hear you. You want them to know. You have nothing to hide. You’re not ashamed of where you found love and safety.  

The men in the room, however, visibly freeze in disbelief at your words.  Amidst your emotional purge, you fail to register the dumbfounded looks on their faces but take their stunned silence as a sign continue. 

Your voice loses its angry tone and it is instead replaced with a defeated sadness, “You had no right to- to- to kill-” you start taking heavy breaths because you can’t say the words. You can’t say his name. It’s on the tip of your tongue but every time you try to force your voice to obey, images of your mate’s dismembered body and his insentient eyes jump into your mind and you choke on the words.

Dean came over to put his arm around you but you push it away “Which one of you did it?” you look up at each man. “Which one of you killed him?”

“I did,” you heard Sam breathe out and you whipped your head around to look over at him.

There is another deafening silence that plagues that room. They are waiting for you to respond, to make a move. They are each preparing for an angry bout of hateful words, maybe you’d even start throwing punches, all of which they think they deserve. However, they were not prepared for the sense of calm that overtook you. You simply nodded at Sam while casting your eyes to the floor.

They are thrown off guard by your sudden change in demeanour. The defensive stance you took when you started your outburst is replaced by you awkwardly pulling at the overly long sleeves of the borrowed flannel that surrounds you. Your downcast eyes switch focus and you start studying the dirt and blood that coat your bare feet. You wrap John’s flannel tighter around your smaller fame as you examine your exposed skin. “I – I think I need to shower,” you look up at Sam expectantly. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Go into the washroom and well bring in some clothes for you. Later on, when we get you settled in the bunker, we’ll go out and buy you all new clothes,” Dean answers when he sees Sam is at a loss for words under your stare.

You’re not sure what he means by ‘bunker’. However, you don’t have it in you to care enough to ask. You just nod and walk toward the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

* * *

 

Once he hears the door audibly click shut, Dean turns toward his brother “What the hell man?”

Sam narrows his eyes at his brother “What?” he says with a shrug.

“Why did you take the fall for me? I’m the one who killed that son of a bitch, Jonas… why did you tell her  _ you _ did? I should be the one taking the heat for it! Not you!” Dean barked at his brother.

“Dean, she’s going to need someone she trusts to get her through all the crap she has going on in her head right now and you are  _ that  _ person,” Sam replies plainly.

“What – why me?” 

“Dude! Our whole lives  _ you _ are the one she’s turned to, the one she trusts the most! She loves you, man… or at least she did before and maybe we can use that to bring her back. We can’t have Y/N hating you for killing him. If we want our Y/N back, she has to trust someone and that someone is you!” Sam continues in a confident yet low voice to keep you from overhearing.

Dean looks to his father who only nods at Sam’s words.

“Fine! But we’ll tell her the truth one day, one day soon…when we get her head back on straight and figure out what that sick son of a bitch did to her. You’re not taking the blame for what I did, Sammy,” Dean finally relents.

“Whatever! Just bring her some clothes so we can get the hell out of here and bring her home,” Sam says with a wave of his hand.

You stand in front of the mirror and look down at the light-coloured lingerie that is now covered in dirt and blood.  _ It was Jonas’ favourite  _ you think as you pull it off your body and throw it in the trash can under the sink. You stand staring at yourself unable to recognize the forlorn eyes looking back at you. You are jolted from your staring when you hear a knock followed by the door opening slightly.

You turn your back to the door to shield your chest from the intruder, luckily you still had your underwear on.

“Jesus fuck Y/N! I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” you heard Dean say before he abruptly stopped and opened the door wider. You turn back to yell at him to leave but his eyes are widened with shock as he takes in your body. 

Dean is finally able to see you. See your scars. Back at the house, he was distracted by the dim lighting and impending threat of death to really look at you. But now, there you were standing in the horrific fluorescent lighting of the motel bathroom wearing next to nothing and now there was no avoiding the physical evidence of what you went through during your stay with the vampires. 

“Get the hell out!” you shout with your back still turned and cheeks burning with crimson.

Dean quickly places the clothing on the counter and then fumbles with the door when he turns to leave stuttering out an incoherent apology.

“What happened?” Sam asked in concern as he and John came over after hearing a commotion. However, Dean could not form words. He merely stared blankly at the floor and shook his head.

“She’s – her body-” he runs a hand over his face before he could continue. “She’s covered, man,” he all but whispers.

“Covered in what?” Sam asks again slightly annoyed his brother isn’t very forthcoming.

“Dude, she’s- I mean- you name it. Her body is covered with scars, knife wounds, bite marks, some burns I think… and that’s just her back,” he trails off unable to lift his eyes from the ground. 

“Fuck me,” John sullenly exclaims as he runs a hand through his hair and starts to pace the suddenly shrinking room. 

“What the hell did we do? Why the fuck did we just let her go? We don’t hear from her for over two years and we don’t even bother looking for her?” Dean is still looking to the ground so it’s obvious to John and Sam that he is mostly angry with himself rather than anyone else. Dean raises his eyes to meet his family’s equally horrified faces “I mean what they did to her is disgusting. It’s so hard seeing her like that… looking at it. She used to be so –” Dean just shakes his head and pushes past his brother to go pour himself a much-needed glass of whiskey.

Unfortunately, Dean hadn’t seen the fact that you had slipped out of the bathroom after wrapping yourself in a scratchy motel towel. You wanted to apologize for snapping at him and tell him that he only startled you. However, when you opened the door you heard him talking about how much your body disgusted him and how he couldn’t even look at you.

You quickly go back into the washroom and hesitantly remove the towel from your body. You look down at yourself and for the first time in two years you hate what you see. Tears prick your eyes as you hear Dean’s words replay in your head. 

You berate yourself for even going out there to apologize to him in the first place. One hour with the Winchesters and you have reverted to the pathetic and insecure girl you were two years ago.

Tracing some of the more prominent scars with your fingertips you remember how you got each one. Jonas loved your marks. Especially his bite marks. He hated that he once let his men torture you, but he never made you feel ashamed about your scars. You were beautiful to him and now… now no one, least of all Dean, would ever find you beautiful again.

You steel yourself once again because that doesn’t matter now. You don’t belong to Dean. You don’t belong to anyone anymore. 

* * *

 

You emerge from the washroom hoping that the sounds of the shower had drowned out your crying and the steamy air reduced the swelling of your eyes. You recognize the flannel Dean had left out for you as the one you would always steal from him when you were on a hunt and you had  _ forgotten _ to pack your own sweater.

When you emerge from the washroom, all eyes are on you as you nervously pull the flannel sleeves over your hands. John stands from his place at the table and walks over to you. “Come on, kid. You probably need some rest before we make the trip back to the bunker,” John says as he walks around you to pick up his duffle bag that is on the floor behind you.

You look around the room and notice there are only two beds and couch. Before you would have had no problem sharing a bed with any of the Winchesters, but that was before.

You’re about to protest and say you’re not tired, just to avoid the awkward conversation of not wanting to share a bed with anyone, when John walks over to open the motel door and holds it open for you. Flashbacks to  _ that _ night claw their way into your mind. You remember how John just held open the door and watched you leave, how he so easily watched you walk out of his life.

Before your body catches up to your racing mind, John speaks as he places the duffle bag over his shoulder “I got us another room. I booked it while I waited for you guys to get back… I figured you’d want your own space. The boys can stay here and we’ll take the other room across the parking lot,” John says in a soft tone, well, as soft of a tone as John Winchester could ever use.

“Dad-” Dean says but is cut off by his father.

“We’re in room 12,” John says sternly to keep his son quiet.

Dean is about to protest again when John shakes his head subtly. Dean lets out a sigh and walks over to you “We’ll be right here. You need anything, anything at all, you call, text, scream, ring a goddamn gong and I’ll come running, you understand?” his joking words are undercut by his utterly serious tone.

“Thanks,” is all you can say in response, unsure if you believe him but at the very least you believe that  _ he _ believes it. You look back at Sam and the corners of his mouth lift in a reassuring way. You try to mirror his expression but fail miserably.

As you turn to leave, Cat comes running up behind you ready to follow you anywhere. When you enter your new motel room John claims the bed closest to the door pointing for you to take the bed on the far side of the room.

“What  _ bunker _ ?” you ask abruptly after a few minutes of silence, startling John as he was absentmindedly rummaging through his bag.

“Oh, it’s uh - my dad - the boy’s grandfather, he was a member of - ” John kept cutting himself off not knowing how to get into all the complicated Men of Letters legacy crap he’s had to deal with these past couple months. Therefore, John simplified the explanation “The bunker is a safe place, probably the safest place in the world actually. You’ll be safe there. We’ll keep you safe there. It’s only a few hours away. You’ll get the grand tour tomorrow kid, but for now – it’s been a long day you should get some sleep”. 

“Wait,” you stare up at him with curious eyes, “I’m going with you guys?” you ask without bothering to hide the surprise in your voice.

“I’m sorry, what?” John asks as if your question offended him.

“I just thought – I mean… I just assumed you wouldn’t – I don’t know… I mean has anything really changed?” you finally spit out after you internally chastise yourself for still being intimidated by the eldest Winchester.

“What the fu- ” John cuts himself off as he realizes his anger is seeping out in the form of a bitter and harsh tone. He knows you are not the source of his anger so he must compose himself before he takes his frustrations out on the wrong person. “Y/N, you are coming back with us. End of story. We will keep you safe this time”.

You just silently nod at John. He didn’t really answer your question but you knew better than to start an argument with him when it seems as though he has already made up his mind, and by consequence has made your mind up for you as well.

You know you can’t sleep without Jonas next to you. He kept the nightmares away. You can’t tell John though, he won’t understand. As you lay there pretending to sleep, you think about John and how he lost Mary, his light, and how because of that loss, darkness consumed him. In that sense, you think John may be the only person who could understand you but then you think about how the hunter inside of him would never let him truly understand or accept the love you had for your vampire.

You spend the night watching Cat sleep peacefully. You listened to John crinkle the pages of the newspaper he was trying to read while occasionally getting out of his chair to look out the blinds for anything suspicious. You can’t stop your mind from wandering to Jonas. The sleepless night trudges on minute by minute as silent tears fall onto the pillow beneath you.

* * *

 

“You boys look like shit,” John quips as he is loading up his truck and the boys come up behind him to throw their bags into the trunk of the Impala.

“Yeah, because  _ someone _ spent the whole night pacing the room and looking out the window, never-”

“Shut it, Sammy! Where is she?” Dean cuts in once he notices his dad is unaccompanied.

“She took that goddamn cat of her’s to go do its business out on the grass over there,” John replies ignoring Dean’s short tone.

“By herself?” Dean asks angrily as he frantically looks around.

“Relax, son. I can see her from here,” John points in your direction. “She ain’t going anywhere.”

Dean visibly relaxes when he sees you. It seems as though you are having a stubborn stand-off with the cat, staring at each other to find out who will cave first. Ultimately, you throw your hands up and start walking towards the Winchesters. Dean lets a glimpse of a small smile trace his lips when he realizes you just lost to a cat.

“Kitty doesn’t take well to potty training I take it, huh sweetheart?” Dean can’t help but joke as you come within earshot.

“You won’t be laughing when she shits on Baby’s upholstery,” you bite out not in the mood for Dean’s snarky comments.

Dean freezes in fear at the prospect of your feline desecrating Baby’s leather. The look of horror on his face makes an almost undetectable smile play on your lips. However, it doesn’t last long. 

“You riding with me, kid?” John asks.

Before you can answer for yourself, Dean pipes up “No, she’s coming with us.” When Dean noticed he was a little too quick and eager in his answering, he tries playing it off with a joke “But you can take the cat if you want.”

It was a joke, you knew that, but the prospect of being separated from your only remaining family, your only remaining connection to Jonas, made you panic. “No!” you say as you scoop up Cat and cling her to your chest.

“Relax, sweetheart, I wasn’t –“ Dean tries to pacify you but it’s too late.

“I’m going to ride with John,” you decide, knowing that John won’t force you to talk and won’t mind driving in silence. 

Dean’s eyes widen with a glint of fear “Y/N…” he starts to say but you just turn to walk toward the passenger seat of the truck while you nuzzle your nose into Cat’s neck.

“We’ll see you in Kansas,” John says tiredly as he gets into his truck and starts driving away, leaving Dean and Sam to ruminate alone on their long drive back to the bunker.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

The bunker. Dean keeps calling it home – your home – but it feels far from it. It’s like living in the world’s creepiest museum. All of the mystical trinkets and lore books that are out on display don’t really give you a warm homey feeling. In addition, the men you’re living with make you feel out of place, as if you are an interloper. They are walking on eggshells around you. Every time you enter a room, all conversation comes to a screeching halt.

Needless to say, you spend most of your time hiding in the spare bedroom they had given you. You have only been here a week and you’re already itching to leave. This is not your home. 

On top of that, you haven’t been sleeping. The few hours of sleep you do manage to get are plagued with nightmares of each Winchester taking a swing at Jonas until he is a bloodied mess on the ground. Your dreams always end the same, the Winchesters turn to you, once they have snuffed the light out of Jonas’ eyes, and do the worst thing possible – they leave you alive. Alive to suffer through the loss of your mate. Alive to share living quarters with the very men who took everything from you. They leave you alive so all that is left inside of you is the wish for death.

You’ve been at the bunker a week and they still haven’t found a case or a new monster to go hunt. They say it’s because things are quiet right now but you know they are just sticking around to babysit you. The Winchesters are getting almost as restless as you. You hear them bickering about futile things… that is, until you enter the room and then all conversation stops. You’re going insane.

You know they brought you back here out of pity or guilt but that isn’t exactly a recipe for happy living. That, in addition to the fact you still hold deep seeded resentment and mistrust for every Winchester, especially Sam, prevents you from making yourself at home.

Every time you walk into the library and see Sam sharpening his knives or cleaning his gun, you freeze in fear that he will turn them on you and take you out just like he did your mate. However, deep down you know that you are not actually scared of Sam killing you; you are fearful over the fact you secretly wish he would do it and put you out of your misery. 

Every time Sam asks you a question, a fearful lump forms in your throat and you are unable to look him in the eyes. The mere thought of being alone in a room with the youngest Winchester fills you with dread.

When you overhear one of the men discussing a monster they have ganked in the past, you can’t help but wonder if that ‘monster’ had a family. You were raised by Winchesters and, as such, you know you shouldn’t think that way but those thoughts automatically override your hunter training. Were all monsters really monsters? Your worldview has been muted into endless shades of grey, reshaping your black and white hunter upbringing.

It is three in the morning and you walk down the quiet halls of the bunker. This is a hunter’s sanctuary but you feel so out of place because how can you be a hunter and a creature-sympathizer at the same time? These walls weren’t made for you, they are not your home. You’re not a Winchester. You’re not a legacy. You’re not a hunter. You’re not family. Everyone would be better off if you left. 

Lost in your thoughts, you find yourself standing outside Dean’s bedroom door. The dark wood is smooth under your fingers. As you trace your hand along the cold metallic eleven at the center of the door, you accidently push the door open a tiny bit. You freeze in fear thinking that if you woke Dean up you would have no good excuse for lurking outside his door.

To your surprise, the room is empty. Dean is not in bed but has left a reading lamp on as it illuminates the room from his nightstand. You wonder where he is and if he’ll be back soon to catch you in his room. However, you soon realize that Dean is a hunter who has been cooped up for over a week, which probably means he’s out letting off steam at the nearest dive bar and probably with the first willing waitress.

With the safety of that realization, you venture into his room. You don’t particularly care for Dean’s decorating style. A collection of guns on the wall is a little too overtly masculine for your taste but it’s interesting for you to see how Dean makes himself at home now that he has his own space. You lightly run your hand along the gun covered wall and smile when you think that this is Dean’s nest. His home.

Your eye is drawn to the nightstand as the lamp shines on what looks like a pile of photos. You sit on the edge of his bed and pick up the photographs. You smile as you see the first one is of a young Dean with his mother, their happy embrace almost has a contagious warmth. You flip to the next picture and see it is of Sam and Dean in Bobby’s junkyard. They are smiling, a rare expression to be caught on camera but you remember that day, hell… you remember taking that picture.

The next photo is of the boys with John, their smiles are almost non-existent because you remember it was like pulling teeth trying to get all three of those stubborn men to pose for the picture. The last picture is of Dean and Bobby in his kitchen, this time, Dean was smiling again.

You flick through the pictures again then check the floor around the nightstand. You don’t know why but a part of you assumed, or hoped, that he would have kept a picture of you within his small treasure trove of family keepsakes. You shouldn’t be surprised. He told you two years ago that you were nothing but a burden he never wanted in his life. You were just pathetic enough to hope that he at least wanted something, one measly picture, to remember you by. 

Realizing you are not even worth a photographic remembrance to the eldest Winchester brother was the final straw. It had made up your mind. You have to leave.

* * *

 

Dean sits in the war room with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a picture of you in the other. The corners of the picture are worn out but he has taken extra care over the years not to crease the subject of the photo. You are twenty years old and are perched on top of Dean in a piggyback while you hold his head up by his hair and force him to smile for the picture. It was one of those rare playful moments when there was no impending danger or end-of-the-world crisis looming over you. It was one of the few times he saw you genuinely smile in the few years before you left – before he let you be taken. 

When Dean heard footsteps coming down the hall and toward the war room he quickly shifted in his seat and carefully shoved the photo of you and him back into its rightful place in his wallet that was laying open on the table.

“Y/N?” Dean asks as you come barreling down the hall struggling to get your duffle bag zipped up.

You freeze at the sound of Dean’s voice and scan the dimly lit room for its source.

Dean rises from his chair and walks toward you with creased brows “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks when he notices you are fully dressed and toting an overstuffed duffle bag.

“What are you doing up?” you ask in a fruitless attempt to divert the question.

Dean snatches his wallet off of the table and stuffs it safely into his back pocket, “I asked you first,” was his mature response.

You roll your eyes and decide that there is no point in lying. “I’m leaving, Dean.”

“You leav- no you’re not!” Dean says stubbornly and with a little laugh of disbelief.

“You going to stop me?” you challenge.

“Damn right I will, sweetheart! You’re not going anywhere or have you forgotten how well it worked out the last time you took off on your own?”.

“Last time it wasn’t my choice to leave … this time it is,” you bite out.

Dean cannot formulate a response. His mouth merely hangs slightly open as he wracks his mind for an acceptable response. But, there is none.

Before you leave, you need Dean to answer the one question all the Winchesters have been avoiding since they found you. “You never answered my question from  _ that _ night, why now? Why after all this time did you come looking for me?” you ask with genuine curiosity. “Did you  _ intentionally _ wait until I finally had built a life for myself, just so you could come and tear it apart?” you tried to joke but your voice was utterly humourless.

“We didn’t look -“ Dean started to say but cut himself off when he realized what almost slipped out.

“Oh,” you shift on your feet and look to the ground as the realization that they never looked for you flooded your entire body. They didn’t really want you back. “I get it,” you say solemnly “No, that makes more sense actually,” you try to say as you shake your head as if it should have been obvious. You were just, once again, pathetic enough to believe otherwise. You force the words out as lightly as possible so Dean cannot read the disappointment in your eyes. However, Dean has always been able to call your bluff. 

“Y/N- you know we- if we knew-“ Dean can’t finish his thought because he doesn’t know what words could possibly make you feel better.

“You mean, if you knew I was shacked up with a vampire you would have then, and only then, given a shit where I was for the last two years? We agreed two years ago Winchester, I’m not your responsibility,” you state with an unintentional bitterness.

“Fuck,” Dean exclaims as he rubs a hand over his face to reign in his frustration. “There you go again! Just like last time… you’re making assumptions like you know what I’m thinking, like you know what I have been thinking for the past two years. You don’t know shit!” his thoughts rush out of his mouth before he can filter his words.

“I know enough! Trust me, I still remember everything you said to me. You made your feelings very clear. I know  _ exactly _ what you really think of me,” your wavering voice betrays your steeled features. 

“You don’t know shit,” Dean repeats only this time much softer.

“Well… even if that’s true, I don’t think I can handle another session of Dean Winchester’s brutal honesty. Let me leave before either one of us says something we’ll regret.”

Dean does not respond, so you take his silence as a waving white flag. You secure your duffle over your shoulder and glance behind you to make sure Cat is still following you.

You only make it a few steps before you hear Dean’s low voice say the one thing you thought you would only hear in your dreams: “You’re family, Y/N. Always have been. Always will be. We need you. I need you,” Dean says so plainly and so confidently you almost believe him. Almost.

You let out a small laugh “What got you to change your tune? Where was this two years ago?”

“Y/N, I don’t have an excuse for the things I said that night… for the things I never said. All I can say is I left you alone because I thought you were out there building a normal life for yourself and I didn’t want to get in your way-” You unintentionally cut Dean’s words off by rolling your eyes at him. “How many times you gotta hear us say that family doesn’t end in blood!” he says forcefully. 

“What happened to me being a burden you were saddled with raising? What happened to –“

“Fuck, Y/N.” Dean sighs “I wish you would forget all the shit I said that night. I was pissed because you said – it doesn’t matter anymore. None of it was true. Besides you said you forgave us. When that asshole vamp was going to make you kill us… you said you forgave us,” Dean said with a hopeful tone.

You glare at him for his choice of words but force yourself to maintain a steady voice, “I forgave you for leaving me behind because I found what I always wanted. I found trust… I found real love. I found honest to god true and requited love. Something I never thought I would have… hell, I never thought I deserved. Even if it was with an asshole vampire, I was happy. And I will  _ never  _ forgive you for taking that away from me just to assuage your own guilt.”

A dumbfounded Dean Winchester cannot process your words. You hadn’t intended to let all of that slip out of your mouth but you couldn’t stop yourself. Once again you take Dean’s stunned silence as your cue to leave.

“So what, you were just going to leave without saying goodbye?” he asks in a sad tone. You let out a sigh, wishing he would just let you leave in peace but he continues, “If I wasn’t waiting up for you, would you have –“ 

“You were waiting up for me?”

“Try as you might to deny it, sweetheart, I know you… I’ve been waiting up for you all week… I knew it was a matter of time before you tried to take off,” Dean says with a sad laugh.

“If you know I am unhappy here, then just let me go,” you all but plead.

“No can do, sweetheart”

“Why?” you ask in almost a whine.

“You’re still under the delusion that what you had with that asshat was  _ true love _ , and I sure as hell ain’t letting you go around thinking that some arrogant low life, bloodsucking killer is the best you can do. You deserve more,” he wants to continue but cuts himself off before he says too much.

“Do I? Isn’t happiness enough? I was happy and he was going to let you guys go… you should have just taken the out, it would’ve been better for everyone.” 

“Oh, come on YN, you can’t really be that naïve,” he says in an incredulous tone. “He was a vampire; he was never going to let us go.” 

“But he promised –“ 

“Monsters lie. It’s what they do. Do you even care that he and his cronies were dropping bodies all over town?” 

“Now I know your lying! He stopped killing people. He drank from blood bags or from me!”

You saw a look of disgust flash across Dean’s face, “Your boyfriend lied to you, sweetheart. How do you think he got on our radar in the first place?” 

“Mate.”

“What?” Dean asks with annoyance.

“He was my mate. Not my boyfriend”

“Same difference.”

“To you maybe, but it means something to me.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so caught up in semantics you could have seen that fucked up situation for what it was!”

“I was happy!” you keep trying to convince him.

“Were you really?” Dean suddenly closes the distance between you and reaches over to pull your arm out in front of the both of you. He rips up your sleeve to expose the scars that cover the majority of your forearm.  “Because these scars beg to differ. I know for a fact these weren’t there when you left, which means at some point during your happy honeymoon phase, your little  _ boyfriend _ drove you to do this to yourself,” Dean says as he lets go of your wrist as if he has just successfully proven his point. 

You cling your arms to your chest as your watery eyes meet Dean’s glare. You cannot believe what he has just done. You see a flash of regret wash over him as he too realizes what just happened.

“You don’t want to know where these came from,” you whisper out in a bitter tone as you roll your sleeves back down and hold the cuffs in your palms. 

“Y/N… I – I’m so...” Dean tries to formulate an apology but once again is at a loss for words.

Now you know there is absolutely nothing left to say. This time when you attempt to leave, you almost make it to the stairs before you feel Dean interrupt your movements. He grasps your arm, more gently than before, and you let out an exacerbated breath. However, before you can vocalize your vexation with once again being prevented from leaving, Dean has spun you around so you are forced to face him.

He is merely inches from you, looking down into your glistening eyes. He has a string of apologies and proclamations running through his head, all of which he knows he should say. All of which you deserve to hear. However, as he looks into the sadness that is entrenched on your features, his voice fails him.

He raises a hand to your cheek to brush away a stray tear that has been threatening to fall for hours and finally realised itself under Dean’s intense gaze.

His thumb trails down your cheek toward your trembling lips. His eyes follow the path of his thumb before they flick back to your eyes for reassurance. His warm whiskey laced breath mingles with yours as he is closing the already short distance between your two lips. You know you should pull away. You know you should turn and leave but you can’t. You don’t want to.

His lips meet yours in a hesitant and chaste kiss, as if he is giving you time to push him away but also, as if he is testing his own comfortability with the situation. After a few moments, you return the kiss and he brings his other hand up to tangle it in your hair.

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip almost begging for entrance.  Once granted, he lowers his hands from your cheek and your hair to wrap firmly around your waist. As the kiss deepens he walks you backwards until your back rests against the far wall of the war room.

You tell yourself you are merely indulging in this kiss to satisfy the love-struck teenager inside of you who used to dream about this moment every night. You are doing this for her – to satisfy her undying curiosity of what it would be like to kiss  _ the _ Dean Winchester. However, the butterflies in your stomach and the pounding of your heart betray whatever rational excuse your brain is scrambling to invent.

Your racing thoughts become muted as Dean pushes your hips up against the wall and starts nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. Your hands trace up his broad shoulder to hold him closer to your shaking body. His firm grasp on your hips make it so his thumbs are tracing under your shirt. He is not asking for anything more, he simply wants to feel you.

He lets out a low groan as he reluctantly pulls his lips from yours. He lowers his forehead to rest on the crook of your neck and takes a slow deep breath. You, on the other hand, are panting for air. Your lack of oxygen mixed with the return of your nervous thoughts left you gasping for air.

Without a word and without a glance, Dean pulls his body off of yours and leaves the room.

You stare blankly at his retreating form, unable to regain enough stability to call after him. You wait a few moments, that actually feel like hours, but he never returns. You chastise yourself for ever believing this would end any other way. The butterflies in your stomach have now died from suffocating disappointment. You shake your head in a vain attempt to will away the tears that sting your eyes. You once again secure your duffle bag over your shoulder and gesture for Cat to follow you as you leave the bunker for the last time.

A few minutes later Dean comes rushing back into the war room with a wide grin on his face. He is carrying a carelessly and hurriedly pack duffle bag in one hand as he swings the keys to Baby in his other hand. He is wearing his light green jacket and is ready to go. Ready to follow you anywhere.

When he scans the empty room, panic overtakes him and his smile instantly falls. “Shit!” he exclaims as he drops his bag and runs up the stairs and outside of the bunker. He scans the surrounding area but finds no trace of you. He runs to the bunker’s garage and punches the concrete wall when he notices that one of the spare cars is gone. 

He pulls out his phone and dials the number of the burner phone he had given you earlier in the week. He hears the faint sound of a phone ringing and quickly follows the noise with a brewing sense of hope. 

His hope is shattered when he finds the cracked phone laying on the concrete floor of the garage. He picks up the offending device with his bloodied knuckles and snaps the phone in half.

In hindsight, Dean realizes there was no way you could have known he was coming back for you… to leave with you. He berates himself for being stupid enough to think you would expect anything more from him, more than disappointment. 

With this realization, Dean picks up a discarded tire iron lying next to Baby. He takes the iron and smashes it hard against her passenger seat window. When he regains awareness of his actions he drops the heavy weapon and examines what he has done. Baby is now covered in dents and scratches, from bumper to taillights.  

He knows he should care but a defeated numbness imbued with self-loathing washes over Dean as he looks at the damage he has caused and thinks about how he has hurt his girl.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two lines of dialogue in this part I stole from Footloose but I couldn’t help myself. Footloose is awesome.

You couldn’t get Dean’s words out of your head.  _ Monsters lie _ . You never thought of Jonas as a monster and you didn’t want to believe Dean but you had to make sure. So, you have spent the past three weeks since you left the bunker retracing your steps. You have revisited every town Jonas had taken you to in the two years you were together. 

You visited police stations, filtered through missing persons reports, and even talked to some survivors.  It has taken you three weeks but you have weeded out the truth, unspun the web of lies Jonas had told you to keep you placated, to keep you comfortable.

He was a vampire. You believed he had stopped killing people because you  _ wanted _ to believe him. You loved him. He saved you – he saved you from yourself. But he was still a vampire. He was still a monster and monsters lie.

* * *

 

When you entered your bedroom, you heard the faint sounds of the shower running in the attached master bathroom. You sneak into the washroom biting your lip to quell the mischievous smile on your face from growing too wide.

As you tiptoe closer to the shower curtain, ready to pounce, you notice the dirty pile of clothing discarded on the tiled floor. They catch your eye because what is usually an eggshell white t-shirt is now splotched with deep red crusting. You pick up the t-shirt and examine it as your face involuntary scrunches up in disgust. Amidst your inspection, you had not heard the shower curtain be pulled open behind you.

You are pulled from your thoughts when a cold wet arm snakes around your waist and pulls you up against an equally cold and wet wall of muscle. “You peeping on me while I’m showering, Pet?” a playfully accusatory voice coos in your ear.

“What happened?” you ask as you hold the shirt a little higher and turn in his hold to face him.

His smile falters for only a second before it is replaced with an even wider grin, “I got a little carried away with my blood bag tonight. You know me, Pet…” he grips your hips a little tighter bringing you impossibly closer to him. “I’ve never been too good at pacing myself when I’m eager.”  

You try to ignore the look in his eyes, and the resulting fire it is igniting in your lower stomach, as you continue. “That’s a lot of blood… where did you –“ however you are cut off when his lips crash down onto yours in a kiss that would make you forget your own name, let alone a lousy t-shirt. Jonas attaches his lips to yours without mercy. One large hand leaves your hip to grasp your hair by the base and pulls your head back to grant him more access.

He always gets this way after he has had his  _ dinner _ and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t as much fun for you as it was for him. Without your noticing, he has slipped the soiled t-shirt from your shaky grasp and thrown it to the other side of the room. As your now free hands trail up his arms you just now realize that he is completely naked. 

You pull back and away from the kiss, partly because you need the oxygen (even if he doesn’t) and also because you cannot stifle a giggle at how confident he seems to be with himself. 

He simply gives you a shit eating grin as your cheeks heat up. He suddenly throws you over his shoulder and carries you the short distance to the shower that is still running and steaming up the room.

You let out a surprised squeal and beg him not to take you into the shower and get your clothes all wet. He merely slaps your ass to shut your protests up as he lifts your giggling body under the heated spray of the shower.

As water falls over you, your hair and clothing cling to your dampening body and Jonas attaches his lips to the crook of your neck. Within minutes your laughing at his struggled attempts to rid you of your now soaked jeans. And, just like that the blood-stained shirt was forgotten.

* * *

 

You mull over those happy memories, or what you thought were happy memories. Now, you wonder if every time Jonas talked about his ‘blood bags’ he was actually referring to an innocent person. 

He said he stopped killing people but judging by the fact you have spent the past three weeks following his blood trail and leaving flowers at the graves of each of his victims, proves that your monster had lied to you the entire time you were together. You hate him. But even more so you hate yourself because you still love him.

That brings you to tonight. You are in your hometown, the one John found you in after your parents had been killed – your real family. The town is nothing like you remember. It’s not warm and inviting but rather decrepit and unsettling but it’s the closest thing to a home you’ve ever had. 

You don’t know how to reconcile your confusing feelings for Jonas and the life you had together, not to mention Dean Winchester and all the complicating heart ache he and that stupid kiss has caused you.

Initially, you felt as though you were betraying Jonas for finding comfort in the arms of one of the men who had a hand in his death. However, you then hated yourself for taking  _ any _ solace from the Winchester who you knew could never give you what you want, what you’ve always wanted.

Therefore, you are spending yet another night in yet another dive bar hoping that the whiskey will help dull your aching thoughts or at the very least you die of alcohol poisoning – whichever comes first.

You are about to take your first swig of the night and hopefully find your peace (in whichever form) when you hear two words that painfully pull you back into reality.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

The bar is loud with incessant chatter but the deep and gruff voice is unmistakable. You lower your head to the bar top and let out an exacerbated groan. You know the gesture is a little over dramatic but you cannot help yourself.

When the owner of that resonant voice pulls up a chair beside you, you contemplate making a dash for the exit but then you look to your beautifully poured double whiskey and don’t want to leave it behind. You’ll endure almost anything just to feel that sweet numbing burn – even the company of Dean Winchester. 

“It didn’t take me too long to find you, you may be losing your touch, kid. I thought I taught you to cover your tracks better than this, Y/N.” Dean tries to joke in a failed attempt to lighten the mood of your reunion.

“I’m not so hard to find if you actually bother looking,” you say as you take a large sip of your amber treasure. You know it’s a low blow but maybe if you piss him off enough he’ll leave you alone for good.

The joking tone in Dean’s voice is lost instantly, “Touché,” he breathes out.

“What do you want?” 

“Been looking for you, kid.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean  _ why _ ?”

You don’t even bother responding to Dean as you polish off your glass and eagerly gesture for the bartender to pour you another. Dean gestures that he’ll have what you’re having.

When the drinks arrive, an awkward silence envelops the two of you. Well, for Dean it is awkward but you’re too preoccupied with chasing the tingling sensation on your tongue to remember he’s even there.

Before he loses his nerve, Dean decided to cut to the chase and say the one thing that has been eating him alive for the past three weeks “Y/N, that night… I didn’t… I came back for you. I know there’s no way you could have known given my track record… but I-“ Dean is cut off when he looks up and sees you staring intently at him with narrowed eyes.

You reach your hand out to trace your fingertips over his jawline “Shave much?” you ask with a giggle as you feel the rougher than usual scruff that dusts his muzzle.

Dean lightly grasps your wrist and pulls it away from his face. “Yeah, well I’ve been a little preoccupied the past few weeks.” He looks to your suddenly empty glass and breathes out a laugh .“You always were a lightweight.”

“I’m not drunk, Dean” you say in a surprisingly sober tone. “And… and I heard what you said,” you uttered so gently he almost didn’t catch what you said. “It’s just… who are we kidding?” you try asking with a light laugh but it accidently comes out with defeated sadness instead.

You risk a glance into Dean’s eyes and find an engrossing dejection that mirrors your own. You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from Dean’s in an attempt to alleviate the heavy weight of both your thoughts. 

“So, what really brings you to this neck of the woods? It can’t just be to track down little old me,” you say with a fake yet playful smile.

“No… I mean yeah! Well I - ” Dean stammers as he attempts regain his ability to focus. “There’s a – a case a couple hours away, in some crappy town. A Djinn we think… but it doesn’t follow the usual MO,” it is Dean’s turn to clear his throat and tear his eyes away from you. “Dad and Sam are there getting started. I told them I’d make the drive to come get you and bring you back with me.”

“I don’t hunt anymore.”

“That’s okay, just… just come back to me – come back with us,” Dean quickly corrects himself. “We can be better for you. We’ll do better this time. I promise, sweetheart.”

“Which kind of Djinn is it? The good kind or the bad kind?” you ask to avoid answering his pleas. 

Dean lets out a small laugh but takes your bait. “They both suck.”

“Yeah, but one sucks a little less… getting to live your fantasy life – I don’t know, being happy is being happy, even if it is a lie.”

Dean nods solemnly, “Yeah well… hallucinating some ideal life while some blue-eyed bastard drains your blood ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Deans says as he swallows down the remainder of his hunter’s helper.

“Shit,” you say as you look back up at him. “Sorry, I forgot that you –“

“It’s alright, sweetheart” Dean says as he gestures for another double.

“But… wasn’t it nice while it lasted? You had your mom, Sam had Jessica, and you had… you had your ideal girl – some freshly personified beer ad babe turned domestic lover,” you try to say as nonchalantly as possible. It has been years since Dean’s Djinn incident and it still hurts to wonder why you didn’t even make a cameo in Dean’s fantasy life.

“That’s not-“ Dean breathes out a heavy sigh. The girl from the beer ad was a lie he told you at the time because he wasn’t ready to tell you the true role you played in his fantasy. He still isn’t ready to share that with you but he never expected you to remember that lie as vividly as you do.

“It’s cool Dean… I get it.”

“So, you’ll come back with me? You won’t have to hunt the thing – just-”

“Hell no!”

“What?”

“Now that I know it’s a freaking Djinn I ain’t going anywhere near any of that shit! The way my life has been going this past month… with my luck, a few hours after I stroll into town I’ll be scooped up and thrown into a Djinn-induced nightmare. So, thanks but no thanks Winchester… call me when you guys are aren’t tangoing with those tattooed freaks,” you say as you down your third glass of whiskey.

“Y/N, over my dead body will I let anything take you away again,” Dean says with an unexpected sternness as he grasps your upper arm to get you to look at him. “I’m not letting you go a third time. I’m not losing you again.” 

“I’m not yours to lose,” you state plainly as you pull your arm from his hold and make your way to the back of the bar to fiddle with the jukebox as a much-needed distraction.

You flip through the musical options and are disappointed by the overrepresentation of mullet rock and the utter lack of the classics. However, you finally come across a song that instantly makes you smile.

You check your pockets but realize the only money you have is in the form of stolen credit cards so you lean over the jukebox and tap the shoulder of a man standing nearby, “You got a quarter?” you ask the attractive stranger.

“Sure thing, honey,” he says after giving your body a once over with his leering eyes.

“Thanks!” you give him a wide smile as you shift your focus back to the outdated record player.  

The beginning of Alannah Myles’ ‘Black Velvet’ starts to play and you make your way to the open space in front of the jukebox. It’s not a dance floor but tonight you’ll make it one. You’re not drunk but you’re loosened up enough to disregard the stares you’re getting from the other patrons. You don’t hear the other women giggling at you nor do you hear the whistles from some of the male regulars as you swing your hips in a way you usually reserve for the private comfort of your bedroom.

You are pulled from your trance when warm fingers trail up your bare arm. You turn around to see the man who gave you the quarter moving in closer to sway with you.

“Hey there, Money Man,” you say with a tilt of your head and offer a sly smile. He takes your words as an invitation to rest his hand on your lower back and you voluntarily move in even closer to the stranger. 

Dean is watching this entire exchange and although he has only allowed it to go on for mere moments, he has seen enough. His jaw ticks and his fists clench as he nears you and the brazen stranger who thinks he has the right to touch you.

“Hey, I came with that girl,” Dean says as he tugs on the shoulder of the intruder.

“Doesn’t look like you’ll be leaving with her,” the other man says with a smile as he pulls you even closer.

You are about to tell both of the men that you are capable of making up your own damn mind who you leave here with but before you can, Dean opens his flannel in a not-so-subtle reveal of the ivory handled gun sticking out of his pants.

The generous stranger instantly pulls away from you and mumbles “Fucking psycho,” before he scampers away.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“Me?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Yes you! God, would you Winchesters quit being such cock-blocks! First Sam beheads my boyfriend an now you chase off my one chance of getting off tonight,” you shove his shoulder back but still feel the music (and whiskey) flowing through you, so you grab him by the flannel and pull him closer to you. “I just want to feel something,” you say so low he almost doesn’t hear you.

Dean is not one for slow dancing, so he merely lets you bury your head into his chest and watches you sway as the song starts to fade out.

“Boyfriend?” Dean asks.

“What?” you ask as you are pulled out of your reverie.

“Nothing,” Dean reassures you as you rest your head back down on his shoulder. He noticed you had stopped calling Jonas your ‘mate’ but doesn’t want to push his luck by questioning you about it. 

The next song that comes on is imbued with dissonant guitar riffs and harsh vocals, all of which highly contrasts the gentle way you are moving against Dean’s body. He moves one hand to snake around your lower back while the other comes up to hold the back of your neck.

His warm grip on your body feels familiar. His strong arms hold you against him in the same way Jonas used to hold you. You feel safe.

You lift your head from the comfort of his solid muscle and look up into his eyes. All of the sadness that laced both your features minutes ago is replaced with earnest longing. You trace your hand up his chest to hook around his neck so you can pull his lips down to yours.

Unlike the last time, this kiss does not start out chaste or hesitant. Within seconds Dean’s tongue is demanding entrance as his hand leaves your neck to cup your cheek. For a moment, your tongues meet in the middle. Yet, you soon relent your control and give yourself over to Dean as his arm tightens around your lower back, making you arch against him.

You had only kissed once before but his embrace already feels so familiar, like home. 

You pull away from Dean’s lips and hazily blink upward at the man who has once again left you utterly breathless. You feel those butterflies you thought were dead and buried reanimate in your lower stomach. Dean’s hand is still cupping your cheek and he looks down at you with the warmest smile. You let yourself be wrapped up in that warmth for a few moments before you started to feel uncomfortable under his intense stare. He had never looked at you like that before and you were afraid of just how much you liked it.

You pull his hand from your cheek and offer him a weak smile “I’ll be right back,” you say as you quickly turn and head toward the washrooms that are hidden down the darkened hallway at the back of the bar.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror and chastise the stupid girl looking back at you for putting you through this… again. Falling in deeper with Dean Winchester is not a good idea. You splash cold water on your face and steel yourself for what you’re about to do. You give yourself a much need pep talk to send Dean Winchester away once and for all.

You rush out of the washroom before you lose your nerve but once you exit, you crash into the very man you were seeking out. 

“What the hell, Dean!” you exclaim as you fall backwards and onto the dirty barroom floor.

“Shit, sorry Y/N, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t making a run for it,” he says as he reaches a hand out to help you up.

You brush his hand away, finding that sitting on the floor is helping you find stability – it’s making you feel grounded. You look up at Dean, ready to say everything you had just prepared yourself to say. However, when your whiskey imbued brain looked up at him, all words are lost.

The hallway was dark except for a single light at the end of the hall that shone behind Dean. From this angle, Dean’s features were dimmed, so you were only able to make out his silhouette. You never noticed just how similar Dean’s build was to Jonas’.

For only a moment, your brain tricked you into believing it was Jonas who stood before you. Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes wandered across his broad shoulders. You wondered how you never realized all the physical similarities between the two men you have loved in your life. Apparently, you have a type.

You involuntarily bit your lower lip as you watched him tower over you. He shifted into the light and you noticed his brows were slightly furrowed and his cheeks were slightly flushed, from the alcohol, from the dancing, from the kiss? You weren’t sure but also you didn’t care, it was still cute no matter the cause.

Your gaze was drawn from his features when you caught his hands subtly pulling on his jeans in an attempt to adjust himself. He didn’t like the fact you were sitting on the ground, eye level with his ever-tightening jeans. He didn’t want you to see the evidence of what that kiss had done to him.

However, you did see. You bit your lip a little harder at the thought that the kiss affected him just as much as it did you. You looked around the deserted hallway and smiled to yourself. It was almost last call, which meant most of the bar-goers had probably cleared out by now.

A mischievous smile plays on your lips as you look up at Dean and shift your body so you are resting on your knees in front of him. Before he can process your movements, you have already worked open his belt and have started in on unbuttoning his jeans.

He grabs your wrists and forces you to shift your focus away from his offending clothing. “What do you think you’re doing?” he tries to ask firmly but it comes out much more strained and curious than he intended.

You simply peck your lips to his whitening knuckles and he instantly lets go of your wrists. He lets you get his jeans fully open but when you reach for his boxers to alleviate the remaining pressure, he is snapped back into reality.

He grabs you by the upper arms and lifts you off the ground then makes quick, yet painful, work of securing himself back into the confines of his denim hell. When he finishes, he looks up at your curious expression and almost loses his willpower again.

You move in closer to his body so you can feel the heat radiating off of him. You trace a delicate touch across the hem of his shirt and purred into his ear. “I want to taste you.”

Just as you had hoped, Dean had lost all conviction. He grabbed you by the hips and slammed you up against the wall. A rush of air got knocked out of your lungs by the force of his movements but you wanted more. However, he wouldn’t give it to you.

He closed the distance between you. His lips were barely an inch from yours but he refused to give in. He refused to let his aching hands wander away from their firm hold on your hips. You’re on the verge of begging him for more, begging him to touch you, when he finally speaks. “Not here. Not like this.”

“Why not?” you’re not proud of yourself but it came out as strangled whine as you squirmed in his hold searching for that missing friction.

Dean lets a self-satisfied smirk trace his lips before he leans down to graze your lips with his teeth. You arch your back, hoping to capture his lips in a proper kiss when he pushes your hips even further into the wall to hold you back. He keeps you there for another agonizing minute before pulling away.

He stands back and examines how you struggle to hold yourself up without his weight there supporting you. He lets another smile play on his lips, only this one is much softer. He reaches a hand out and starts to guide you out of the bar.

When you make it outside, Dean makes a beeline for Baby. But you grab his wrist and shake your head at him before you take off running in the other direction.  Dean realizes you are running toward the seedy motel that shares a parking lot with the bar. Within seconds, you hear his heavy footsteps gaining speed behind you.

As you make it to your door and start fumbling with the keys, you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind. You finally get the door open and turn in Dean’s firm hold as he walks you both inside.

Your heart is racing and you’re out of breath, both from you short sprint across the parking lot and from the creeping excitement that comes with anticipation. You have waited your whole life for this moment, the moment Dean Winchester would want you back. Nothing can ruin this for you.

“Y/N, I – there’s something I need to tell you,” Dean says as he hesitantly breaks your kiss.

God damn it.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing smut. So, if it sucks it’s not my fault (okay it’s completely my fault but whatever)

_ Your heart is racing and you’re out of breath, both from you short sprint across the parking lot and from the creeping excitement that comes with anticipation. You have waited your whole life for this moment, the moment Dean Winchester would want you back. Nothing can ruin this for you.  _

_ “Y/N, I – there’s something I need to tell you,” Dean says as he hesitantly breaks your kiss.  _

_ God damn it.  _

“Whatever it is… I don’t want to know, not right now,” you say as you try to reignite the fire that was in his eyes only moments ago.

“No, this – this you deserve to know now… before – before we,” he stubbornly continues.

You roll your eyes and pull away from him. “Fine,” you wave your hand in a gesture for him to continue.

“It wasn’t – Sammy didn’t – it was me who killed Jonas, not Sam,” Dean finally gets out. “I know I should have told you sooner… that I shouldn’t have lied to you but they thought -” Dean cannot finish his explanation because you had reattached yourself to his lips. 

Dean gently pushes your shoulders away so he could see your face and make sure you heard what he said. He stares at you with disbelief as you card your fingers through his hair and murmur “I don’t care,” against his lips before you push the flannel off of his broad shoulders. 

Dean is surprised by your response, or lack thereof. It takes him a minute to resume the frenzied pace he had when he entered the room. However, when your lips trail down his jaw to leave their mark on his neck, he is jarred back into the moment. 

You can feel when Dean regains his fire and you smile against his neck when he rids you of your flannel as well. Dean walks you further into the room. He brushes the clutter off of the nightstand and nudges you to sit on top. He stares down at you for a moment and under his stare you don’t know what to do with yourself. You reach down to take off your tank top but as you’re about to discard the cloth barrier, Dean pushes your hands away and rips the thin material in half and exposes your heaving chest. 

You’re about to admonish him for ruining a perfectly good tank top, when he rids himself of his final top layer as well. Needless to say, your words got stuck in your throat. 

You’re waiting for him to poke fun at you for staring so hungrily at his bare chest but you soon realize he is staring at you the same way. 

You reach behind your back to undo your bra, before he has the chance to ruin that too. He licks his full lips and stalks toward you to stand in between your legs. He reaches over to undo your jeans and crouches down to rip them off your legs. The force of his tug nearly pulls you off of the nightstand but he places a strong hand on your upper thigh to keep you in place. 

He is now on his knees in between your legs and the reality of the situation is starting to hit you. Your self-conscious nature inadvertently takes over and you instinctively move to close your legs, away from his stare. He doesn’t say a word but places a firm hand on your inner thigh to keep them apart. Dean then sits up to pull you in for a reassuring kiss. 

He places a hand on your chest and pushes you back so you are resting against the wall. His focus then shifts to your panty covered core. He hooks his fingers into the elastic waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them off. Once again you move to close your legs but he grabs your ankle and throws it over his shoulder and moves in so your knee is locked against him. 

You grip the edges of the nightstand as he moves impossibly closer, kissing everywhere but where you want him to, where you need him to. Suddenly, his hands grasp your hips and in one swift motion he lifts himself off the floor and you off your seat, as if your weight was nothing. 

He throws you onto the bed and towers over you. He stares at your exposed form. However, this time you know better than to try and hide away.

Dean is about to undo his pants when he catches movement in his periphery. He turns his head to see Cat staring at the both of you from her place on top of the TV stand. Dean looks slightly uncomfortable as he scrunches his face and looks back at you, “Is she just gunna sit there and stare at us?”.

You look over to see what he is talking about and let a small laugh, “The little perv likes to watch. Why don’t you man up and give her a show?” you tease. At your challenging words, Dean removes both his jeans and his boxers in one unceremonious movement. 

When his hard length sprang free in front of you, you once again moved to close your legs, not out of self-consciousness but in the desperate need to rub your thighs together and gain some form of friction. When Dean realizes what you are trying to give yourself, he smirks and shakes his head. He roughly grabs both your knees and pushes them apart. 

He moves in to hover over you and starts a trail of kisses from your eyelids downward. It wasn’t until he got to your mid-stomach that you realized what he was doing. He was kissing each and every one of your scars. You think about how your body is littered with old knife wounds and bite marks. Your mind flashes back to when Dean called your disfigurations  _ disgusting _ only one month ago. You squirm underneath him, hoping he would move on. However, when he attached his lips to your lower hip and starting sucking on one of Jonas’ bite marks, you had had enough. 

You get a firm grip on his hair and pull his face away from your body. You force him to look up at you, “Those aren’t yours,” you state plainly as you take your grip on his hair and guide his mouth further down to where you actually want him to start sucking. 

His gaze only falters for a moment, before he takes your not-so-subtle hint and attaches himself to your clit. The sudden change in sensation makes your hips involuntarily buck upward but he quickly pushes your hips down and pins them to the bed with his forearm while his mouth continues its attack. 

Once he feels like you will cooperate and stay still on your own, he unpins your hips and wraps both arms around your thighs to spread you impossibly wider. You smile at the fact he has been too preoccupied these past few weeks to shave properly, the burn of his additional scruff is making a flush creep up your chest. 

His tongue is alternating between rough penetrating jabs at your entrance, long slow swipes, and quick flicks over your bundle of nerves – never staying in one place long enough for you to find your release. You can tell by the smile that spread on his lips when you let out a frustrated whine, that he is doing this on purpose. 

“Please, De- I can’t,” you all but beg when you once again fail to grasp the bliss that is just out of reach.

Without warning he suctions his lips to your clit and ever-so-gently lets his teeth graze over the nerves. You’re about to scream as he also adds his tongue to the assault but your voice fails you when he suddenly forces two fingers into your dripping hole. He keeps them still as you adjust to the sudden intrusion but as soon as he feels you clenching down around him he starts to wiggle his fingers lightly before pulling them all the way out. 

His fingers set an unimaginable pace and between that and his wicked mouth you feel your shuddering breath mimic the fluttering sensations in your lower stomach. The base of your core starts to tighten. Your toes curl and push into mattress in a vain attempt to bring you closer to the man withholding your release. 

“God! Dean, no – it’s too much! I can’t,” you try to say but your body betrays you as it arches toward the man between your legs. As if spurred on by your words, Dean’s fingers pick up an even more feverish pace and his mouth sucks down more harshly around you. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut but instead of seeing darkness you see a flash of white that blurs your vision when your eyes flash open on their own accord. Your body shakes as a wave of euphoria rushes through you. You can’t even control the unladylike moans that escape your lips as his fingers continue to fuck you through your convulsions.

He removes his lips from your over sensitive bud and is now peppering light kisses to your upper thigh until you come down. 

He crawls up your body and nips at your pulse point. You let out a contented sigh as he moves in beside you.  He wraps an arm around you to pull your back up against his chest.

You turn in his hold and look into his eyes with perplexity. He smiles down at you and lets out a small laugh as he closes his eyes, “What?”

You feel his steel hard length pressing against your thighs so you open them slightly and allow his erection to rest between the fatty tissue. Dean lets out a low groan as you rock your hips and message his cock between your soaked thighs. 

“You’re not done with me already, are you old man?” you egg him on. Dean’s eyes flash open and he playfully narrows his eyes at your teasing words. Before he can pounce, however, you push his shoulder back so he is lying flat on the bed and you straddle his lap.

You’re sitting on his lower thighs so you can message his cock teasingly and scoop up the pre-cum dripping from the head. You bring the fluid on your finger up to your mouth and suck it off dramatically. You hear a low growl from the man beneath you but you pay him no mind as you play with him in the same excruciating way he had done to you. 

He reaches for your hips but you swat his hand away and pop the finger from your mouth and wag it at him in a reprimanding manner. “Patience.” He moves his hands away instantly. You smile to yourself that the big bad Dean Winchester is now putty in your hands. 

You shift your hips so you can lean forward but before you take him into your watering mouth you are interrupted by Dean’s words, “Sweetheart, before you – a couple years ago… you once told me that you had never – that you were waiting for – and I just…” you look up at him with squinted eyes before you quickly realize what he is talking about. 

A sly smile spread on your lips and you tell him the truth, “I stopped waiting. Who do you think I’ve been with these past few years? What do you think he’s been doing to me – what I’ve been doing to him? This ain’t my first rodeo,” you bite your lip. Before the disappointment can spread too far on Dean’s features, you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock and make small sucking motions. Your tongue clears away the remaining pre-cum and Dean’s head falls back onto the mattress heavily. 

Within seconds you are attempting to take Dean down as far as your throat will allow. Your hands work over the portion that won’t fit in your mouth but you have always been stubborn. So, you try your hardest to relax your throat, and your mind, to take him the rest of the way down.

Dean’s groans of bliss spur you on and he moves himself to sit up and tangle his hands in your hair. 

“Feels so good, baby girl,” he grunts out as you almost got him all the in. He feels your throat clenching around him as you try, and fail, to suppress a gag. “Don’t – don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart. You’re doing so good – you don’t have to – “ Dean tries to reassure you but you’ve never been a quitter. You swallow around him and move yourself down one more inch until your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock.

“Fuck!” Dean exclaims as he feels your tongue starting to drag against the think vein that runs along the entire length of his shaft. You allow your tongue to add additional pressure as you move to bob your head against him. After a few moments, you pull yourself up and slide off the bed to kneel on the floor. 

You pull on his hand to get him to stand up. Shifting on your knees, you take his hands in a gesture for him to grip your hair. He looks down at you, unsure if you’re doing what he hopes you’re doing. When you open your mouth in a wide and waiting manner, he takes his cue and forcefully inserts his entire length into the back of your throat.

It is easier to take him now that you have prepared yourself but that doesn’t stop tears from pricking the corners of your eyes as he fucks your mouth in a pace that is without mercy.

Carnal noises escape Dean’s throat as his hips furiously pump into your mouth. Your throat bulges at his intruding length and the intensity of his motions makes your pussy clench around nothing. You risk a glance upward and lock eyes with the man claiming your throat and the involuntary keen that tries to escape your lips sends a vibration through Dean’s cock that spurs him on as he grips your hair even tighter. 

You can feel him starting to twitch against your tongue and his hips begin a more erratic rhythm. You flatten your tongue in preparation for his warm seed to paint your throat. Suddenly however, Dean pulls himself out of your mouth roughly and in doing so, you lose your balance and fall onto your side. 

When you regain your ability to breathe properly, you let out a small giggle. Dean pushes on your shoulder so you're lying on your back while he hovers over you. You’re ready for him to release himself over your chest or into your hair but instead you feel the sudden burn of being completely filled with Dean Winchester’s throbbing cock. 

The air is knocked out of your lungs as the blissful surprise stills inside of you, waiting for you to adjust. His fingers had prepared you earlier, and yet, nothing could actually prepare you for the sheer size of him. Dean is staring down at you intently and you squeeze your eyes shut and nod for him to start moving as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

You braced yourself because you thought he was going to ram into your cunt just as forcefully as he did your mouth but you are surprised when he starts moving in and out of you at a slow and drawn-out pace.

His movements are so tender that an unfamiliar and different kind of intensity flows through you. You dig your nails into his shoulders and arch your chest toward him as he lowers his lips to take one of your hardened nipples between his teeth. When you hiss out at the sensitivity, Dean’s teeth relent and he lavishes the vulnerable bud with his warm tongue. 

He pulls his mouth away from you and moves a stray hair out of your face. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.” Dean’s warm voice encourages you to obey. “I want to see you.”

You reluctantly remove yourself from your self-imposed darkness and look up into the pair of warm green eyes staring back at you. A wide smile takes over Dean’s features as he takes you in. His amorous thrusts mixed with his loving gaze is too much. It’s too intimate. 

You can feel a panic start to creep within you at the prospect of just how deep you have fallen for Dean and just how far you  _ will _ fall when he inevitably leaves you behind. When the night started, you thought that your blinding lustful haze would shield you from your feelings for Dean. The hard and rough way things started kept you from acknowledging just how intimate you’ve become. 

However, now you are trapped under Dean’s revering gaze, forced to look him in the eye, and it is too much for you to handle. Your mind also wanders to Jonas and how you may hate the murdering bastard but it still feels like you’re betraying him by sleeping with his killer. 

At the same time, you don’t want Dean to stop. It feels too good, you need him to keep going – but not like this. 

You nudge Dean’s shoulder so he sits up and you shift your hips so you are left completely empty. You almost whimper at the removal but don’t dare look back at him as you shift onto your hands and knees. You rest in this position for a second and when you don’t feel him re-entering you, you drop your head and let out a desperate plea, “Please!”

Before the greedy syllable can leave your lips, Dean has grabbed your hips and slammed into from behind. This new angle means he his hitting you in places you didn’t even know could be reached. The blissful sudden return of fullness is short lived as he pulls almost all the way out before slowly rocking back into you. 

You can still feel his gentle caressing of your hips as he unhurriedly takes you from behind. You let out an involuntary moan at the perfect feeling of his careful touches. When your eyes start to water at the sensations, you pull yourself back to reality. This is still too much for you. 

“Harder,” you breathe out once you regain your ability speak. Dean complies by taking your hips firmly in his hands to keep you still as he picks up his pace. You can still feel the loving closeness his touch provides and you beg him over and over to take you harder and harder. Before you know it, Dean is slamming into so hard you can feel the carpet biting at your knees and your upper body crashes to the ground as the muscles in your arms give way. 

You miss the other kind of intensity you were feeling a few minutes ago but the thought of allowing that kind of intimacy to return, scares you more than you thought possible. You don’t deserve his loving embrace. This is what you deserve. This is what you need. You need him to punish you for almost letting yourself feel.

You hadn’t realized you had verbally asked him to punish you until you felt his thrusts falter with slight hesitation. Dean looked down at your bent over body and thought that this was not how he imagined your first time together. He always pictured being able to watch your face contort as you came around him. He was hesitant to let himself go. He didn’t want to hurt you by unleashing the hungry animal within him. He didn’t think you could handle all the things he wanted to do to your willing body. But, your desperate pleas were weakening his resolve, he wanted to give you what you needed. If you wanted him to take you, he would take you. 

He hadn’t realized how long he had been lost in his thoughts until he felt you working yourself off on his cock. It was an odd angle for you, so you couldn’t get what you needed but for Dean, the sight of you using his cock, pushing your slick core along his steeled length, needing him so badly you’d fuck yourself with him, ignited his more primal side. 

You let out a small squeal as he slapped your ass and gripped your hips with such force you both knew there would be bruises in the morning. He drove his hips into you so relentlessly your knees started to give out. 

He pressed his forearm into your lower back and pushed your hips down into the carpet so hard you were instantly lying flat on your stomach. Your over sensitive nipples scrapped along the rough carpet causing a mixture of pleasure and pain that had you biting back a strangled scream.  

Dean moved his forearm up so he was now pinning you down by the back of your shoulders. Resting most of his weight on top of you, he takes his one free hand and grabs your ass to spread you open. Dean lowers his head to watch himself disappear inside of you. The harder his fingertips dig into your flesh and the sharper his thrusts become, make your affirmations of pleasure grow louder and louder. 

Your vision faded into black as you dissolved into a new kind of pleasure. You gripped the carpet beneath you so tightly you could feel some of your fingernails cracking under the pressure. The ever-tensing coil inside of you finally erupts and you cannot stop the string of profanities and incoherent groans from escaping your lips. 

As you come down, your orgasm slowly pulses through your veins and turns your limbs utterly boneless. When you regain conscious thought, you notice Dean is still ruthlessly using your hole to chase his own release. Within moments his rhythm falters and his cock starts to twitch inside of you. 

You know you should tell him to pull out but your voice seems to have a different plan because instead you turn your head to the side and in a whimpering plea you beg him to fill you with his cum. After a predatory grunt, Dean does as he is told, giving you sharp thrusts as his hips snap erratically and his seed spreads deep within you. 

Dean collapses on top of you. You let out a tired laugh and try to nudge him off. You are perfectly fine with the prospect of sleeping on the floor because moving seems damn near impossible right now. However, with his last bout of energy, Dean scoops you off the floor and places you on the bed. He collapses in beside you with an arm hooked around your waist.

You are drifting to sleep when you feel Dean’s cum dripping out of you. 

You know you should go clean yourself up but you don’t have the will power to exert that kind of energy. 

The owner of the heavy arm draping over your waist lets out an irritated groan as he uses that arm to drag you across the bed so your back is pulled flush up against his chest. He now lets out a contented sigh as he nuzzles his forehead into your shoulder.  Dean’s hand trails downward and finds the sticky mess he left behind. 

“Shit, Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ but you cut Dean’s words off by removing his now cum covered fingers from between your legs and bring them up to your mouth. As you lick his fingers clean Dean lets out a rapacious growl, “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N… when did you-“ but Dean stops his line of questioning when you crane your neck to kiss the tip of his nose. 

“Sleep now… talk later,” you demand in a fake grumpy voice but it is enough to shut Dean up for the rest of the night. For the first time in a month, for the first time since Jonas died, you are able to sleep. You are able to sleep without getting blackout drunk and your dreams are just that: dreams, not nightmares.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Despite his overworked body and the heavy exhaustion that plagues his entire being, Dean does not sleep a wink all night. His mind races between what this could mean and what he is going to do now.

He is stuck in a limbo between knowing that you are better off without him and an uncontrollable urge to wake you up for another round. He hates himself for tainting your life with his inability to stay away from you.

He examines the peaceful sleeper in his arms. The light from the streetlamps outside radiate through the motel window and illuminate your scarred form. Now that you’re asleep, Dean traces your scars with the pads of his fingers. He should have protected you.

He raised you, he was only child himself at the time, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has this unrelenting need to protect you. You are his responsibility.

As you got older, Dean noticed his feelings and intentions toward you shift. He no longer got annoyed as you stole his flannel when you forgot to pack your own. But instead, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from your bare legs as his shirt hung past your small sleep shorts. Also, when you wore his clothes in public, he could not stifle a proud smirk. The prospect of everyone thinking you were together, made him stand a little taller. You wore his flannel as if it was a subtle claiming mark over your shoulders.

You were his. He has had you for most of your life. He tried denying it. He pushed you away. He said horrible things to you because he knew he shouldn’t feel this way about you. But you were never a sister to him, not like you were to Sam.

Publically, Dean would claim a strictly platonic relationship with you. He would introduce himself to strangers as your brother. But, it was simply a vain attempt to distance himself from the dirty thoughts that plagued his favourite dreams.

Yet, every time he did so, he would see your face fall into a momentary flash of disappointment. It would almost break his resolve. Almost.

Now, he finally has you. There is no going back. But, it doesn’t feel the way he always imagined it would. He always thought that your first time together would be a mixture of gentle caresses and intense, yet affectionate, thrusts. And, you would work your way up to the rough and wild trysts as your relationship progressed.

However, Dean saw the bruises forming on your hips and felt the dull sting of the scratches you left trailing down his back. He realized that you may not be the innocent girl he thought you were. You may have a dark side simmering within you that makes you even more perfect for him.

* * *

 

As morning broke, you were awoken by sandpaper tickling the tip of your nose. You let out a groan because you know exactly what that means. “Why can’t you learn to use a litterbox like a normal goddamn cat,” you huff out in a sleepy haze. The only response your feline friend gives you is a purr while she rubs her cheeks over your face.

You giggle at the tickle of her whiskers. You pull yourself from the bed, throw on the nearest pair of pants, and go outside with Cat to let her do her business.

Dean comes out of the shower to see the bed and motel room completely empty, even that freaking cat is gone. In a panic, he runs toward the front door. When he goes to begin his frantic search, he crashes right into you, knocking you to the ground.

“Damn it, Dean! Why do you keep running into me and knocking me on my ass?” you ask as you get yourself back up and wipe the dirt off your butt. Your cleaning efforts are cut short when Dean wraps his arms around you and buries his nose in your hair. “Uh… good morning to you too?” you say a little surprised by his behaviour.

“I thought – I mean… if you woke up and I wasn’t next to you – I didn’t want you to think-“

“Relax, Dean…. I heard the shower running when I woke up. I knew you stuck around, don’t worry,” you say as you reenter the motel room.

“I specifically did not go out and get us breakfast this morning because I knew with our track record you would think I skipped out on you… and I -“

“Hey,” you place a placating hand over his chest “I knew you wouldn’t – not after – you’re not that kind of man,” you say honestly. The moment is starting to feel too heavy. So, you decide to deflect it by making a joke, “Besides,” you gesture for him to look down “I didn’t think you would have left without your underwear.”

Dean lets out a small laugh when he sees you’re wearing his boxers from the night before. “You went outside in just my boxers and a bra? That’s my kind of lady… classy,” he teases.

You swat his shoulder but shrug “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Dean says as he suddenly throws you over his shoulder and carries you toward the bathroom. The towel wrapped around his waist falls away. You let out a giggle and slap his butt, but he one ups you by turning his head to bite down on your ass. You let out a surprised squeal as he makes it to the washroom and slams the door shut behind you.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you got me kicked out of my motel room.”

“Me?” Dean asks with feigned hurt.

“Yes you! I’ve been staying here for almost a week with no problems. Then, you spend one night with me and I get kicked out over the noise complaints.”

A proud smirk forms over Dean’s face as his only response.

You push at his chest and try to quell the growing smile on your face “It’s not funny! Where the hell am I supposed to go now?” you ask as Dean is helping you carry all your stuff across the parking lot.

“Where the hell do you think, princess? You’re coming with me,” it’s not a question.

“Dean I-“

“I know, I know you don’t hunt anymore but no one’s going to make you-“

‘No… it’s just-” you say as Dean starts packing your stuff into Baby’s trunk – blatantly ignoring your reservations. “What the hell?” you say as you look over Baby’s assaulted exterior. You run your hands across each scratch and dent. You stare up at Dean in disbelief that he would drive her in this condition.

“Oh… uh…some asshole made the biggest mistake of his life and took his frustrations out on her. I haven’t – I was waiting to fix her until that asshole got his shit together and made things right. He needed the reminder,” Dean says as he places his hands on your hips but refuses to look you in the eye.

You cup his cheek and force him to look up at you. You want to tell him that you forgive him. You want to say that everything is alright and you are completely happy. But, the words won’t come out. You have never been able to lie to Dean. So instead you offer him a gentle kiss that hopefully expresses more than you’re willing to say.

Dean clears his throat and opens the passenger door for you. You reach down to pick up Cat when you see Dean’s face contort.

“She’s not going to – I mean – she won’t… shit in Baby, will she?”

You let out a reassuring laugh and kiss Dean’s cheek before getting in the car “No, Dean. She will not violate Baby with her feces.” Dean lets out a sigh of relief and goes to close your door when you continue “Probably.”

You can’t help a fit of laughter as Dean stares daggers at the feline in your arms as he takes his place behind the wheel. He puts up a grumpy façade and mumbles incoherent vexations as he revs the engine.

You snuggle closer to Cat and whisper “Good girl.” When Dean hears you, he turns his daggered eyes in your direction. He cannot maintain his grouchy exterior when you stick your tongue out at him. He cannot contain a warm smile at your playful behaviour. He has you back.

“Watch that tongue of yours, missy,” Dean warns.

You let Cat out of your arms so she can explore the car. You lean over and flick your tongue over Dean’s ear and bite down on the lobe. Dean is trying to focus on the road but takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze your knee.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warns again only this time with predatory force.

You slide back to your side of the car when he releases your knee. A self-satisfied smirk plays on your lips when you see his knuckles turning white as he grips the wheel.

This new-found ability to sleep is making the past month of insomnia finally catch up with you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep but the quiet sounds of Dean’s cassettes lull you back into awareness.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and look over at the handsome driver. Dean is carelessly drumming his fingers to the beat of the music, all the while Cat is curled up and sleeping on his lap. That sight alone fills you with a kind of warmth you thought you had lost forever.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Dean says without even looking at you.

“Where are we?”

“About two hours from where we need to be.”

“Do I even want to know how long I’ve been out for?”

“Probably not,” Dean says sparing you a quick glance before reluctantly returning his eyes to the road.

You decide against commenting on the position he and Cat are in, knowing Dean will just deny liking her.

Dean starts talking about the apparent Djinn case you’ll be walking into. He reassures you that you won’t have to hunt but the more he talks about it, the more your heart races. You feel the sudden urge to jump out of the car and run in the opposite direction.

Even if you're not the one hunting, it still feels like your being pulled back into your old life. A life of violence, blood, and constant death. Also, what is to stop things from going back to the way they were before? You’re tired of feeling like the uninvited guest to the Winchester party.

Sleeping with Dean was fun but what if he gets bored with you? He never told you that he had feelings for you beyond the bedroom. And, you’re okay with that, but you need to know if this is just sex to him before you get your hopes up. Was it a one-time thing? The uncertainty is making you dread your decision to get in the car with him in the first place.

Even if he wanted you, all of you, you don’t think you can give yourself over to him fully. He can have your body any which way he pleases. But, the thought of admitting to him (or even to yourself) your true feeling for the man sitting next to you, scares you almost to the point of tears.

You’re still weeding through your contradictory feeling for Jonas. On top that, you are dealing with Dean admitting that he was the one who killed Jonas. In short, you are a mess.

As the highway signs indicate you’re getting dreadfully close to your final destination, you try to come up with a way to distract yourself from your nervous thoughts. In addition, you want to stall a little bit longer before you re-enter your old life.

As if Dean can sense your unease, he places a hand on your knee to pull you from your own world and back into reality. “You good, sweetheart?” he asks with genuine concern.

When you don’t respond right away Dean’s hand squeezes a little tighter. That was all you needed.  An idea for the best type of distraction jumps into your mind.

You take Dean’s wrist and inch his hand upward so his fingers are nearing the hem of your shorts.

“Nuh uh,” Dean says as he pulls his hand away. “Not while I’m driving. I don’t need to veer Baby off into some ditch because I’m lost in that pussy… she’s been roughed up enough.”

You let out a huff and go for Plan B. Unfortunately, when you reach to undo Dean’s pants he cuts you off. He gives you the same reason why he needs to focus on the road.

“Stupid road safety,” you whine to yourself but Dean hears you and lets out a laugh.

“There’ll be time for that later, kid. But for now, we need to keep our hands to ourselves… at least while we’re on the highway.”

Dean’s choice of words inadvertently ignites a Plan C in your mind. You’re desperate to quell your racing thoughts. So, you decide to do the one thing that has always worked for you in the past.

As you climb into the backseat, you hear Dean yell for you to be careful of the leather. When you flop down you roll your eyes at him in the rearview mirror.

When Dean sees you squirming around back there, his curiosity gets the better of him. “What are doing?”

You quit your movements and hang your arms over the front seat so you can look over at Dean. You rest your chin on your arms and speak as nonchalantly as possible. “Well, you won’t play with me. And like you said… we should keep our hand to ourselves,” you pull away and throw your discarded panties onto the seat next to Dean.

Dean tries to maintain his resolve. He promised his father he would be in town by that evening and it was already getting dark. He _should_ keep driving.

Dean held out for longer than either of you expected he would. He tries catching glimpses of your wandering hands in the rearview mirror. But, you have purposely positioned yourself so that wouldn’t be possible.

Once again, Dean’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as he hears tiny moans coming from the backseat. His willpower shatters the moment he hears his name leave your breathless lips. He pulls the car over to the shoulder of the road and all but pounces into the backseat.

Plan C did the trick. Your mind was silenced to the point in which you once again fell asleep against Baby’s leather. However, when you woke up you were not in the Impala but under the warm sheets of yet another motel bed.

“Sam?” you ask when you hear the incessant clicking of a keyboard. You notice the youngest Winchester sitting across the room.

“Y/N,” Sam is startle by the sudden beak of silence. He rises from his seat and walks toward you. When he reaches the end of your bed, he hesitates. The last time he saw you, you were scared to be around him.

“It’s okay, Sam,” you move the blanket out the way so there is room for him to sit. “Dean told me you weren’t the one to – I know it wasn’t you.”

“Yeah… Dean said he told you the truth.”

“I’m not mad but… why did you lie? You let me hate you…. what was the difference if I was afraid of you or if I was afraid of Dean?”

Sam raises an eyebrow up at you as if you’re missing something obvious “Y/N/N, we both know-“

But before Sam can enlighten you, John and Dean come into the room and Sam stops his train of thought. A small and involuntary smile creeps its way onto your face at Dean’s entrance. But, his eyes stay trained to the floor as he moves further into the room.

“Y/N,” John nods his greeting at you.

You offer a weak smile in return but glance back to Dean who is still not looking at you. A heavy silence blankets the room and all of the sudden you not sure what to do with your hands.

John walks over to the kitchenette to grab some of the research laying on the counter. He hesitates when he sees Cat is using the papers as a bed. John rolls his eyes and reaches to pull some of the documents out from under her. Cat hisses at him and swats his hand away.

You start to giggle at the sight which causes a small laugh to escape Dean’s lips too. But when John spins around and levels his eldest son with his glare, the humour instantly leaves the room.

“You still have this freaking thing?”

You climb out of bed and remove Cat from her makeshift bed before she sets John off anymore. He gathers the papers as you back away from him. You walk over to Dean and touch his forearm with your one free hand. “Dean?” you question as he pulls his arm away from your grasp, never sparing you a glance.

“Now that there’s four of us again, I booked another room so no one has to crash on that dingy ass couch,” John informs the room. You bite your lip to hide the small smile that is threatening to spread. There are worse ways to wait out this hunt than you and Dean having a room all to yourself. “Your stuff is already over there. So, take your cat and head over to room 12. I’ll be over in a few hours,” John continues as he hands you a set of keys.

When you finally realize that John intends to be your roommate, you look back at Dean. You wait for him to jump in and offer to take John’s place. But he never does. Dean simply wanders over to the mini-fridge and pulls out a beer.

The sad smile on Sam’s lips and the subtle shaking of his head informs you that you should leave without protest.

You and Cat settle into your new room. You start flipping through channels in desperate search of something to do. You never realized how boring hunting is if you weren’t actually doing any hunting.

You are halfway through a terrible made-for-TV-movie when your motel room door swings open. Dean comes barging in holding a grease stained paper bag. You smile wide and swing your legs off the bed and scamper toward him.

You wrap your arms around his neck and let out a sigh. “Just the Winchester I was hoping for! I was getting awful lonely,” you say but before you can pull him down for a kiss, he untangles your arms from around him.

“Dad sent me to get dinner,” he says as he places the bag on the table. You pull out a chair and prepare to dig in, you can’t even remember the last time you ate and you’re starving.

You push the second chair out with your bare foot and nod toward it “You want to eat with me?” you ask.

“No, I just came to drop it off. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Dean says. He sees an almost imperceptible flash of disappointment dance across your face.

“Okay… that’s fine. Go save the world Dean Winchester… I’ll be here.”

Dean turns to leave but stops in his tracks when he remembers the real reason he is there. He looks back at you as you’re digging around the bag for the stray fries that had fallen to the bottom. He steels himself for what he’s about to do.

“Y/N,” Dean catches your attention and reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small package. “Here,” he says as he throws the small box onto the table in front of you, “for… you know.”

You look at the unfamiliar box then back up at Dean with perplexity, “What’s this?“

“We weren’t exactly careful,” he says as if that explains everything. “Just to be safe… to make sure nothing comes out of our... our mistake,” he says gesturing toward your stomach.

You squint your eyes at him then turn the little blue box over and see in clear letters ‘Plan B’. You are stunned into silence and are unable to look back up at the man.

“The guy at the store said as long as you take it within 72 hours we should be safe… then we won’t have to worry. We can forget it ever happened.”

Your mouth hangs slightly agape as your vision starts to blur from unshed tears. You absentmindedly nod while still staring down at the box.

Dean takes your subtle gesture as a sign of your understanding. “Alright then… I’ll see you tomorrow, kid,” he breathes out before he turns to leave the room.

When the door slams shut behind him, you are startled from your thoughts. You open the offending box and take the pill. You look back to the food Dean brought you and your stomach churns. You push the food into the garbage and get back in bed. You hold Cat against your chest but unlike the night before, sleep does not come easily. And when sleep finally returns to you, so do the nightmares.

Dean stands outside your motel door for longer than he should. It takes everything he has not to go back in there, rip the box your grasp, and tell you it was all a lie. But, he can’t. He reluctantly pulls himself away from your door. As he walks by the vending machine, he cannot stop his clenched fist from colliding with the glass.

When he makes it back to his room, he picks the tiny shards of glass from his bloodied knuckles and throws them at his father feet. “I hope you’re fucking happy,” he bites out as he pushes past his father and goes to the bathroom to wash this day off his body.

* * *

 

“You’re squishing me!” you giggle out as Dean collapses over you. His sweaty forehead is pressed up against your chest. You squeal and push him away as he bites down on your skin. You fall into a fit of laughter. Your little shove sent Dean’s tired body falling off of Baby’s backseat and into the footwell.

He looks up at you trying to feign annoyance but fails miserably. You place your ankles on each of his shoulders, exposing your bare self to him, and shrug casually.

“Now this is a sight I could get used to,” he says but he is not looking in your eyes anymore.

You roll your eyes at him and remove yourself from his gaze. As you reach for your underwear that still rests on the front seat, Dean reaches over and snatches them from you. He sucks in air through his teeth and wags a patronizing finger at you, “Only good girls get to wear underwear.”

“But… I was so good for you! I came right when you told me to,” you try to reason with a fake pout.

“Good girls, don’t tease me to the point in which I have to pull over in the middle of a deserted highway just to bury my face between-“ Dean is cut off when you lean over and capture his lips in a heated kiss. “Alright, alright… enough,” he says, his grumpy façade returning as he opens the car door and gets out. As he zips up his pants he looks around at the pitch-black sky. Dean leans down to look in the car. He points an accusatory finger in your direction, all while still holding your stolen panties. “If Dad asks why we’re so late, I will have no problem throwing you and your impatient pussy under the bus!”

You reach to grab your underwear from him but he is too fast and he only laughs at your sad attempt. You start redressing yourself but opt to stay in the backseat to spread out. Hopefully you get another hour or so of sleep.

When the Impala pulls into the motel parking lot, Dean smiles at your sleeping body that is twisted up in the backseat. With Cat trailing close behind, Dean pulls you out of the car and carries you bridal style toward the room Sam told him they were staying in.

As Dean approaches, the door swings open and John’s imposing frame blocks the doorway. Dean stops abruptly and the smile he didn’t know he was sporting falls instantly. In your sleepy haze, you wrap your arms around Dean’s neck and nuzzle into his chest. You leave a small yet noticeable peck on his shoulder.

Dean lowers his gaze as he walks past his father and into the room. He places you on the nearest bed. As you sleepily crawl toward the pillow, your shirt rides up and the finger shaped bruises on your hips are exposed. John narrows his eyes in focus. He then sees the unmistakable love bites trailing your neck and inner thighs.

“Dean, a word.” There is no question in John’s voice as he storms out of the room. It is not a request.

Sam shares a silent look of concern as Dean just shakes his head and follows his father out of the room.

“What the fuck happened to her, Dean?” there is a sternness to the question that implies John already knows the answer.

“I – we,” Dean isn’t sure how to explain this to his father in a way he’d understand. Dean thought it would be easy telling his family his true feeling for you. When you two are alone, Dean doesn’t feel an ounce of shame. But by the way John is glaring at him now, Dean is starting to doubt himself.

“Jesus,” John says as he runs a frustrated hand down his face.

“Dad, it not just-“ Dean is cut off by John shoving him into the side of the Impala.

John holds Dean against the car by the scruff of his shirt, “That night we found her, I promised her we’d keep her safe. I told her she’d be safe if she stayed with us at the bunker. I never… I never thought I’d have to keep her safe from you, my own son,” he growls as he releases Dean.

“Dad, it’s not like that!” the anger is rising in Dean’s voice.

“Yeah? Tell me how it is. Tell me how you didn’t take advantage of her while she was in this messed up state. Tell me you didn’t fuck her while she is trying to work through all that shit she’s had to deal with the past two years!”

“Take advantage? You don’t know the first thing about – if you had any paid attention to us at all while we were growing up, you would have seen that _this_ was a long time coming!” Dean lashes out. He has never spoken to his father in such a direct and disobedient way. But, Dean can feel a rage boiling deep within him at the implication that he was using you.

“Oh, I’ve seen enough,” John scoff as he thinks about the marks his son left on your body. “I took her in all those years ago so she could have a family! Not so you can have a traveling fuck toy for when life on the road get lonely.”

Something inside of Dean snaps and he takes a swing at his beloved father. Unfortunately, John blocks his hit and shoves Dean back.

“I love her!” Dean screams. He has never said the words out loud. He is surprised by his own admission. But at the same time, he has never been more sure of anything,

“The fuck you do! You loved the fact she pined over you, gave you googly eyes, and pumped up your ego! You loved that she was a love struck puppy who bent to your every whim. You didn’t give her the time of day before, but what? Now, you expect me to believe you want to be with her? You expect _her_ to believe that? You were just marking your territory, taking back what that asshole Jonas took from you.”

“You need to watch yourself, John.” Dean warn his father in a low and threatening tone.

But John does not back down. He steps even closer to Dean, getting right in his face. “I’m disappointed in you, son. You will shut this shit down, now. She’s in a vulnerable state right now and I will _not_ have you pushing her over the edge. I’ve seen those scars on her wrist. You will not push her over that edge again.”

Dean’s face pales at the mention of your scars. He thinks back to what you said during your confrontation at the bunker. You implied the scars were because of him. He hated the thought of being the cause of your pain. He couldn’t do that to you again. “How am I supposed to stay away from her? I finally got her back. We’re finally-“

“We’ll go back to the way things were. If anyone asks, she is your sister. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yeah, because that worked out so well the last time,” Dean scoffed. “We can’t just – everyone was miserable back then. We can do better! We can be better for her!”

“We will be better! But, we need to keep her safe and the only way to do that is to keep her here, with us. We can’t have her running off again after you inevitably fuck this up and break her heart. She’s family. We may have forgotten that a couple years ago but we know it now. She’s not ready for you. You’ve got to let her down easy now, before we lose her later.”

“I don’t think I can,” Dean breathes out in a broken and defeated tone.

“You can, and you will. That’s an order, son,” John says sternly before turning to reenter the motel room. When the two men enter, you are now awake and talking to Sam on the end of your bed.

  



	11. Chapter 11

“Y/N,” a soft hand touches your shoulder and pulls you from your fitful sleep. You wipe away the tears that had fallen in your unconscious state. John is looking down at you with an unfamiliar concern. “I’ve got breakfast.”

There’s so much more he wanted to say. When he walked into the room and heard your quiet pleas for forgiveness, he felt the dull pang of regret. He rushed over to pull your shaking body from the nightmare you were trapped within. He hated that he forced his son break your heart. But, he knew your school girl crush and this momentary heartache would pass. 

John also knows his son. Dean has a habit of chasing a new tail in every town they arrived in and you are not in the head space to deal with that. If Dean broke your heart, John knew he would lose you forever. You couldn’t handle another loss. It’s better to nip this in the bud before things get too complicated, before you fall in too deep. This is better for everyone. He  _ will _ protect you this time. 

When your bleary eyes focus on John you don’t even bother trying to return his small smile. You simply curl your body against the extra pillows, willing yourself back to sleep. You prefer your nightmares over this reality. 

“Breakfast, kid,” John repeats as he once again interrupts your wallowing. 

You glance over your shoulder and see John pulling out a container of pancakes, your favourite. “Not hungry,” you say into your pillow as you hope the bed would swallow you whole. 

John turns to see your dinner from the night before lying untouched in the trash. He lets out a slow breath through his nose. “Breakfast, Y/N. Get up.”

As if on instinct, your body complies with John’s insistence and you meet him over by the table. He watches you struggle to maintain interest in your food. 

“Dean said-” when your shoulders visibly tense at the name, John quickly corrects himself, “I heard you don’t hunt anymore.”

“Yes, sir,” you say unable to meet his gaze. John raised you to be a warrior, a hunter. Hunters don’t quit. So, you know he is going to be disappointed in you. 

“Is it just the hand-to-hand or do you not want to do research either?” John asks so casually that it kind of surprised you. He wasn’t mad at you?

“I don’t mind doing research… if I’m going to be here I might as well do something useful. But I – I can’t – I don’t think I could-”

“No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Why don’t you help Sam with the research today and then you can let me know if it’s still too much for you.”

There is an unfamiliar compassion that laces John’s words. It is so uncharacteristic, it makes you feel uneasy. There is a hint of guilt in his eyes but John Winchester is not an unapologetic man. Whatever is bothering him, he will keep it to himself. So, you don’t push the issue. 

John watches you intently, making sure you finish your breakfast. Normally, you would say he is treating you like a child. But even when you were a kid, he never cared this much about you. 

After breakfast, you moved to go back to bed but John grasped your upper arm “Nuh uh, no more sleeping. Your helping Sam remember?” 

“I can do research from here. I don’t need to be -” 

“It’ll be easier if were all together,” John cut you off. The sooner everyone learns to be comfortable together, the better.

You and Cat trail behind John. The short walk across the parking lot to Dean and Sam’s room feels as though you’re walking to the gallows. Nothing good can come out of being locked in a room full of grumpy Winchesters.

“Dad, can I take a look at your journal again? I feel like we’re missing -” Sam stops abruptly when he sees you enter the room behind his father. Your tight clutch on your laptop and your downcast eyes informs Sam that you are not here on your own accord. 

Dean comes storming out of the washroom but stops in his tracks when he sees that he and Sam are no longer alone. At Dean’s appearance, Cat leaves your side and runs over to rub herself against Dean’s ankles. She’s purring at her new friend but he makes no move to reciprocate the affection. His eyes are trained on you. 

Cat’s trusting acceptance of Dean causes tears to sting your eyes. You turn to leave the room hoping to slip out before any of the men sees how pathetic you actually are. Unfortunately, John sensed your retreat. He places a hand on your shoulder and closes the motel door – trapping you inside. 

The silence is deafening. You take a seat in the furthest corner of the room and open your laptop to distract yourself. The men resume hunter-mode and delve back into research. However, the words in Dean’s book morph into an indecipherable language. The only thing his mind can processes is how you are curling into yourself. You are attempting to rid your cheek of a fallen tear without anyone noticing. But, Dean noticed. 

Dean moves to get off the bed and rush over to your side. “Dean,” John’s stern voice stops his movements. John’s jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

Dean glares at his father. But, always the obedient son, he settles back down onto the bed. You had not noticed the exchange because you were too lost in your own thoughts.   

You don’t want kids; not right now anyway. You and Jonas talked about it but he’s gone now. That future you were building for yourself got swept away in one night. The Winchesters took that future from you. But when Dean came to find you, he wormed his way back into your heart. He gave you hope that things would be different this time around. 

You don’t want kids, you keep telling yourself. You’re too messed up right now to care for another human being. So, it’s not the fact that Dean wanted to avoid getting you pregnant right now. It’s the fact he threw the pills at you like you were a problem to be fixed. Like you were a random fuck that he had to take care of before he moved on. You were his mistake. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

You risk a glance upward at the green-eyed hunter. The lump in your throat erupts into a silent sob as you see Cat has made a bed for herself on Dean’s broad chest. He absentmindedly strokes her back as she nuzzles into his warmth. 

The domestic scene displayed before you, makes you ache. You remember how Cat used to sleep on top of Jonas on lazy Sunday mornings. You forgot how much you craved that kind of domesticity. It was a simple sight that to anyone else would seem insignificant. But seeing Dean in that position, with your cherished feline, made you long for the comfort you once knew.

However, the scariest part is that you are starting to realize that you want that life with Dean. Images of Dean holding you on lazy Sunday mornings, instead of Jonas, cloud your mind. You hate every minute. 

It would be easier if you wanted Jonas, and only Jonas. He was gone and you could learn to accept that you have to move on from that pipe dream. But, wanting Dean is harder to accept. Now, you must live everyday knowing what you want is within your reach but it isn’t reaching back for you. 

When a tear inadvertently splashes onto your keyboard, you are jerked back to reality. Now that John is nose deep in a lore book, your exit is clear. You make a break the door, ignoring John bellowing your name as you rush out into the fresh air.

The summer air is thick around you. But, it’s better than drowning in the unmistakable Winchester scent that plagues the motel room.  A firm hand rests on you shoulder and you roll your eyes. “Can’t I have just one minute, John!” you plead. But as you turn around, you recoil away from the secure hand when you realize it belongs to Dean and not John. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment makes you shudder. “Fine,” the stability in your voice surprises you. 

“Dean!” John’s voice booms from the motel doorway.

Dean ignores his father and looks back at you. He raises his hand from your shoulder up to cup your cheek. “Y/N, I -”

John crossed the short distance between you and pulls Dean away. They have a silent confrontation. Their hardened eyes are a special language you did not understand. 

Dean was ready to disobey his father – give into the aching in his chest. However, when Dean turns to face you, his eyes fall onto the long scars that radiate off of your exposed arms. Much like the marks he left on Baby, your marks are there to remind him of his failure. He failed you once but he can protect you now. His father was right, he cannot push you off that edge again. 

Dean turns his back to you and walks toward the abandoned motel room. 

“Dean?” you call after him. The sound of your voice makes his shoulders tense but he maintains his resolve and doesn’t look back. 

John lets you return to the solitude of your room. He realizes he may have pushed you too far too fast. You spend the rest of the day switching between research and being lost in your thoughts. As the sun started to set, your restlessness hit a breaking point. 

The boys had left a couple hours ago to go back to the morgue and re-interview witnesses. This case was not as cut and dry as they assumed and it was making everyone irritable.

You threw on the cleanest thing in your duffle bag, which was a light-yellow sundress. You never used to like dresses growing up but Jonas had insisted on you wearing them. He said he liked the way dresses made you look like you were floating. You said, he just liked the easy access dresses allow for. You now found them comfortable and familiar. Giving up hunting has allowed you to explore your more feminine side. You like feeling pretty. 

You left a note for John telling him you’d be at the bar that was only a couple blocks away. You didn’t bother calling him because you knew he would not let you go alone. 

You were only two drinks in when the barroom door swings open. Three hulking Winchesters come barreling through. You guess they got your note. 

“What the fuck, Y/N!” John berates as he approaches you with his sons in tow. 

“Dad,” Sam interjects, “she’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” 

John checks you over for signs of harm. He didn’t like coming back to the motel room to find it empty. He feared you had bolted again or gotten yourself in trouble. But you seem fine, physically speaking. Although, John doesn’t love the fact you are drinking alone. 

When you simply raise your glass at him and finish your drink, he decides to relent. “I guess…we could all use a break,” John says as he pulls a chair out to beside you. This case was taking a lot out of them. These supposed Djinn they were hunting, did not follow the typical pattern. Each Winchester needs to clear their head before they take another crack at the research. 

The Winchester men are still adorned in their FBI suits – a sight that is seemingly irresistible to every female patron. You scoff to yourself. If these women had any sense they would stay as far away from these sharply dressed men as possible. It’s too late for you, but they can still save themselves. 

Many drinks were had. As a result, your reservations were lowered just enough to allow a light and easy conversation to flow between you four. Without realizing it, you found yourself genuinely laughing and smiling. The usually stoic men’s behaviour became sloppy and more carefree. Even John doubled over with laughter when you beat Sam at a game of darts and your reward was getting to braid his hair.

Dean and you still avoided direct contact. But having Sam and John there was a nice buffer that lifted a small weight off your chest. At least now you can stand to be in the same room as him. That’s progress. 

The night wore on but you did not want it to end. It has been forever since you felt this free, this comfortable. You even felt yourself warming up to Dean. You were no longer too ashamed to look him in the eye. 

As you waited for the next round, you leaned against the bar watching the rare spectacle of smiling Winchesters. Dean did one of his full body laughs and you instinctively giggled along with him from afar. You didn’t even know what was so funny but when Dean Winchester smiles it is a pure contagion. 

“Which one’s yours?” the low voice from the man at the end of the bar asks. When you look at him with perplexity, he rephrases his question. “Which one has you smiling like a smitten school girl?” he asks with a warm smile.

You’re hesitant to answer. Your smile falters but you try to reply as casually as possible. “None of the above,” you say with a painful shrug.

The stranger’s posture straightens as if he was ignited with a sense hope. His bright blue eyes trail down to your dress. “Is that so…”

You let out a small laugh and his obvious behaviour. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up though, they’re my family. My  _ very protective _ and  _ heavily armed _ family.” You offer him a wink to help him relax at your implicit threat. You gather your four beers and rejoin the Winchesters. 

Your  _ family _ . The word had just slipped out, but it felt good to say again after all these years. They are your family. 

You hand Sam his beer and he ruffles your hair in thanks. You attempt to playfully kick him in the shin for messing up your hair. Unfortunately, you are a bit tipsy and you lose your balance and tumble backwards. Before you can brace yourself for your inevitable fall, two strong hands and a wall of muscle keep you from hitting the floor. 

You hear Sam in the distance laugh about how it serves you right for trying to kick him. But when you turn in the hold of your savior, all background noise falls away. Dean doesn’t release his hold on you. In fact, he squeezes you a little tighter.

“Jeez, what’s a damsel got to do to be save by you, huh Hero?” the familiar voice of your waitress breaks you out of the trance Dean’s eyes have captured you in. “I call next, if that’s alright with you, sweetie?” the feminine voice continues. 

Dean sets your body upright so you can now stand without his weight supporting you. He looks over to pretty girl who interrupted your moment. “Something tells me you can take care of yourself…Sherry,” he says as he leans over to read her name tag that is aptly placed along her plunging neckline. 

“Oh… I’m  _ very _ capable,” Sherry says as she cocks her head to the side and offers Dean a proud smirk.

“ _ That _ I don’t doubt,” Dean acknowledges her with a wink while taking a beer from your stunned grasp. 

“In fact, my shift just ended. I was just about to go  _ take care _ of myself… but a girl could always use a helping hand – if you’re interested,” she says with a knowing smile and absolutely no shame. If you weren’t so annoyed with her interruption, you may have been impressed with her confidence. 

Dean glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He knows this will seal the deal. He knows this is a surefire way to make you believe the painful lie he told you last night. If he leaves with this woman, it will be the final nail in the coffin that holds any hope for a future with you. If he does this, you will realize you deserve someone better than him. 

Dean steps forward so you are no longer in his line of sight. He couldn’t go through with this if he saw the pain in your eyes. “You know me, sweetheart… always ready and willing to be of service to a damsel in need.” His voice is low and thick as he moves even closer to the intruder.

A lump forms in your throat when you hear him call her ‘sweetheart’. You know it’s a common nickname. But over the years you have laid claim to that endearment. You thought it was only yours.

You slam the remaining bottles you were holding onto the table and rush toward the bar’s washroom. You bump into John on the way but don’t stop to apologize. You can’t stop. 

The sound of your scurrying footsteps makes Dean’s stomach flip. Dean leaves his new date to find his jacket. He needs to be gone before you get back. 

Sam grabs Dean by the upper arm. “Don’t do this,” it is a firm demand rather than a plea. Sam knows what Dean is trying to do. But, he also knows that it may kill whatever ounce of trust you have left for the eldest Winchester.

“She’s got to believe it, Sammy. I’ve got to make her believe it,” Dean says in a defeated tone. 

“No, you don’t! Don’t let Dad – he’s not the boss of you, Dean... or her! He doesn’t know-” 

“Enough, Sam,” John growls from behind his son’s back.

“No!” Sam bellows as he puts his foot down. He is fed up that he is the only one who can see this is doing more harm than good, for everyone. 

“Sam,” Dean begs, “Don’t make this worse. Just take care of her tonight, okay… please? I’m not actually going to do anything… I just need her to think I am.”

“Why? I mean, this is a stupid plan, even for you!”

“Yeah well… stupid is all I got right now.”

Sam relents and lets his brother leave. He levels his father with a glare that would scare any other person. But, John simply shakes his head and takes one of the beers off the table. 

Sam looks around the bar but when he cannot find you, he asks a woman if she can check the washroom for you. When the woman returns, she informs him the stalls are empty. Sam runs a frustrated hand through his hair and goes to find his father.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

You are in the bar washroom when you hear the faint sounds of music playing in the background. Because the universe has a sick sense of humour, you recognize the song as ‘Black Velvet’. The song Dean and you danced to before the kiss that started this whole mess. 

Your hands involuntarily curl into a fist and with great force you shatter the mirror in front of you. You gain a twisted form of satisfaction from destroying your own reflection. That is, until you unclench your fist and feel the sharp pain of split knuckles. 

You roll your eyes at your reddening hand and wash off the excess blood. You aren’t clotting quick enough so you exit the washroom in search for a rag to wrap around your hand. 

Your timing is impeccable. As you emerge, Dean is guiding your waitress out of the bar. He uses one hand to open the door and the other rests on her lower back. “For fucks sake!” you exclaim in defeat.

You hear a soft chuckle from behind you. When you turn around the blued eyed man from the bar is leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest and he is sporting an amused smile on his face. 

“Something funny?” you ask with unadulterated irritation.

The man raises his hands in defense but loses his smirk when he notices your bleeding hand. He takes a deep breath and his eyes shoot up to your face. You’re still staring at him, waiting for some smug response. Instead, he surprises you. “I’m a nurse. I’ve got a first aid kit in my car… I could help you out, if you want.”

You look down at your hand and realize you will probably need stitches. You figure that a proper first aid kit is better than wrapping the wound in a dirty bar towel. Besides, there is something disarming about the idea of an attractive male nurse tending to you. Even if he is a psycho, you could probably take him.

“The name is Will, by the way,” he says when he senses your hesitation to follow him out the back door. “I swear, I only parked around back because the last time I parked out front I got my tires slashed,” he says with a pacifying smile. 

After Jonas, you now have a mistrust for overtly charming and attractive males. Luckily, you have a butterfly knife hidden in your purse, just in case. 

You follow him outside and he gestures for you to sit on the hood of his car. He tends to your hand with great care and interest. He takes his sweet ass time too. “What happened?” he asks almost a little breathless.

“Got into a fight with a mirror. We both lost,” you shrug trying to keep the moment light. You have never been interested in unloading your problems onto anyone, especially strangers.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What-” but before you can question what he means, he grips your wrist and leans down to lick a long slow stripe across your bloodied knuckles. “Ew! What the fuck?” you try to push him away but he has a firm hold over you.

“So sweet,” he looks up at you and his blue eyes shift into glowing rings of sapphire.

* * *

 

When Sam informs his father of your disappearance, John slams his beer down onto the table. “God damn it, that girl needs a freaking LoJack.”

“You can’t seriously be blaming  _ her _ right now?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Excuse me?”

“Dad! You didn’t even give them a chance! True, there was no guarantee they were going to work out. But there was a 100% guarantee that forcing them apart would break them both!”

“Not now, Sam!” John attempts to silence his youngest son as he searched for you. “You check the parking lot, I’ll ask around… if she’s not here, then we’ll go back to the motel and look there. Call Dean, maybe she went after him.”

For once, Sam followed John’s orders without protest. When both men came up with nothing, they stood in the parking lot trying to get a hold of Dean. 

“Sammy?” was Dean’s gruff greeting over the phone.

“Is she with you?”

His brother’s question made Dean spring out of bed.  He was back at the motel – alone. He sent the waitress home because it was bad enough you thought he would sleep with her. But to actually do the deed would be a whole new low, even for him. 

“No! What the hell is going on?”

“She just-” but Sam’s explanation is cut off by his father tugging his arm and signaling for him to pull out his gun. There is a commotion coming from the back alley behind the bar and it has grabbed both hunters’ attention. Sam can hear Dean screaming his name through the phone. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” Sam says before hanging up on his frantic brother. Sam shifts his entire focus onto the suspicious sounds coming from behind the bar. 

The two hunters round the building with drawn guns. The sight they are met with will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

* * *

 

_ “So sweet,” he looks up at you and his blue eyes shift into glowing rings of sapphire. _

Your eyes widen in fear for only a moment. Once the surprise fades away, your hunter instincts take over. Your elbow connects with Will’s nose which loosens his grip on you. 

You scramble off the hood of his car and dive for your purse to pull out your concealed knife. Will is quick to recover from your blow and tackles you onto the ground. Will rips your purse from your grasp. He offers you that soft smile again as he repositions himself to pin your arms down by your side. 

“Djinn?” you ask as you are forced to look up into his glowing eyes. The sleeves of his shirt have ruffled up in your struggle. You can now see very distinct tattoos covering his arms.

His smile falters for moment before it grows into an even wider grin. “Hunter?” he asks with genuine curiosity. You nod casually as if you are not being attacked by freaking genie. “And those brutes you were throwing darts with… also hunters?”

A smile grows on your lips and you nod again. “Like I said, my very protective and heavily armed family!” you all but laugh at the creature hovering over you. He will be no match for the Winchesters. 

Any confidence you had in the belief that it was only a matter of time before the Winchesters came looking for you, shattered when the creature looks over his shoulder with a smile. “I don’t see your family anywhere, princess… but I see mine.” His soft smile has now morphed into a wicked sneer.

You hear the heavy footsteps of approaching doom and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your brain scrambles to conjure up an escape route or a plan of attack. But the only plan you can think of, and are capable of enacting in your current position, is to scream for help. “John! Sam!” you squirm underneath your attacker. 

A firm hand is swiftly placed over your mouth but you take this opportunity to bite down on the imposing flesh. “Son of a bitch!” Will exclaims as he pulls away and examines his now punctured skin. The back of his bleeding hand comes down across your cheek. You are incapable of blocking the hit and you feel your lip split when it collides with your teeth. 

You stifle your wince of pain as you once again cry out for the Winchesters. Another hand comes down over you, only this time, it is a closed fist. Will watches the blood spread across your lips. He leans down over you and licks up the blood dripping from of your mouth. He suctions his lips around the wound. The action is so similar to a kiss that it makes your stomach churn. 

You hear one of the men behind Will clear his throat. Will groans in annoyance but instead of pulling away, he bites down on your lip. He squeezes out one last drop of blood before lapping at the abused wound. 

“So sweet,” he repeats as he admires your swollen lip.

The throat clears again and Will shift his position over you. You now have more freedom to writhe in pain. After realizing this new-found freedom, you shift onto your stomach and attempt to crawl away from Will’s grasp. 

A heavy boot comes down over your back to keep you in place. You squirm and kick to no avail. You let loose a litany of profanities, threats, and screams for help. The venom in your voice is directed at your attackers but even more so directed at yourself. You let yourself get rusty, get sloppy. You should have known there was no escaping the life. No escaping the danger. 

Will must have gotten tired of you running your big mouth. He reaches down for the hem of your dress and pulls out a knife. He cuts a long slit up the delicate material and you scream a little louder in fear. You hear the sound of fabric tearing. Tears start to sting your eyes as your cheek scraps along the asphalt.

The large foot on your back finally releases you. But you are then kicked in the ribs, forcing you to turn over and lay on your back. Will climbs in over you again. He takes the light-yellow material he stole from the bottom of your dress and shoves it into your mouth as a makeshift gag.

When your eyes snap open, you realize that each of the four men have eyes shining bright blue with hunger. 

“You never answered my question,” Will states with a pout reminiscent of a petulant child. He rubs his middle finger and thumb together and misty blue wisps ignite between his touch. “Looks like I’ll have to find for myself what it is that happened to you that makes your blood so sweet.”

The blue magic connects with you and you instantly still. You remain fully conscious, fully aware, but you are unable to maintain your efforts to escape. Your body is completely lax.

“You see… usually we have to have to use our mystical mojo to break people down, but you… you came to us already broken.” Now that you are paralyzed with magic, Will shifts off of you. He gestures toward the other men to move forward. “I sniffed you out the moment you walked into the bar, princess. It’s not every day someone like you just falls into our laps.”

Each of the four men descend on you. These aren’t typical Djinn. They have not rendered you unconscious or let you slip into an alternate reality. They want you awake. They want you to feel it. 

Your limp and immobilized body can only lie there and wait. Two of the men take each of your wrists, while a third props you up like rag doll so your back is leaning against his chest. His nose is trailing along your neck. Will watches his accomplices get into a comfortable position. 

“I guess that leaves me with your other main artery,” Will winks at you before spreading your limp legs. He pushes your tattered dress up your thigh and if you could move, you would probably wretch at the feeling. 

“Alright boys, let’s take care of this one before her brutes come looking for her. Then once we’re all full and sated… we’ll take care of the rest of those freaking hunters. Show them what happens when you encroach on our territory,” Will continues as he gives you thigh a light squeeze. 

The other men around you simply hum in agreement. They are too focuses on the alluring smell of your racing blood to offer a proper response. 

Each man pulls out a knife. The two men at your wrists share a knowing smirk when they see the long scars along your forearm. The each take their respective knives and reopen those old wounds. They cut right along your scars and, if you could, you would scream. 

The man at your neck takes his knife and makes shallow cuts along your pulse point. He doesn’t want you bleeding out too quickly so his cuts are more careful and precise.

Will is the last to make his cut. He smiles up at your wide and tearful eyes before shifting his focus to the juncture of your thighs. He opens your legs a little wider to provide him more access. He places a chaste kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh before digging his knife into the skin. He drags the knife across your thigh. Will quickly attaches his lips to you so he can capture every last drop of fallen blood. 

You helplessly watch your body be drained. Each man has their lips attached to their respective lacerations. If they feel your blood running dry they open a new wound and continue draining you. 

You wonder why you have such terrible luck. Of course, you couldn’t be attacked by the Djinn that lets you die in your fantasy. No, you happen to find the Djinn who want you conscious, want you to feel it all. 

Your head starts to spin and your eyes get heavy. Your blood is rushing out of you at a rate that weakens you far beyond the effects of the Djinn’s paralyzing magic. It weakens your mind as well. Your eyes close and you slip into darkness. These Djinns aren’t letting you live out your fantasy as they take your life.  So, with your remaining strength, you will give yourself solace in your final moments. 

You think of Dean.

* * *

 

After Sam hung up on him, Dean dials your number. You don’t answer. He rushes out of the room after grabbing his gun. “Son of a bitch!” he curses to himself when he remembers he left Baby back at the bar because he was too drunk to drive her back. 

Dean takes off running in the direction of the bar. It is only a few blocks away. His long legs and determination enable him to move at inhuman speeds. Yet, the run seems to take an eternity. 

He finally makes it to the bar but there is no one around. He pulls out his phone and dials your number again. Hope springs into his chest when he hears the faint sounds of a phone ringing. He sprints toward the sound which is coming from behind the bar.

His eyes scan the dimly lit area but there is no one around. The phone is still ringing and he realizes its coming from one of the dumpers. “Fuck!” he says as he walks over to retrieve your discarded phone. He hates the idea of you once again ditching your phone to avoid him. It makes it all the more difficult to find you. He opens the lid to the dumpster, expecting to grab your phone and continue his search. 

His body becomes rigid. Bile rises to his throat. Looking inside the dumpster, Dean is met with the sight of your bloodied and contorted body. Discarded among the trash.

Dean’s body is frozen with shock but his eyes well up with tears and he shakes his head in pure denial. Someone has thrown you into the dumpster as if you were mere garbage. Dean pushes the lid open all the way and jumps into the heap of waste and moves in beside you. 

He is hesitant to touch you. He doesn’t know if he is ready to feel your cold and lifeless skin. He regains his nerve and pulls you toward him. Dean holds you close against him as if it was not too late to protect you. 

He refuses to look down at your torn and bloodied dress. You looked like an angel tonight in that dress. He doesn’t want that memory to be tainted by the sight he is currently cradling in his arms. But it is too late. He is too late. 

How could he let this happen? Boiling rage and crippling desolation fight for dominance over his actions. Every part of Dean wants to jump from the dumpster and rip the lungs out of the first person he sees, guilty or not. But all he is able to do is hold you. He can’t let you go. 

He is too caught up in his own mind, that he tricks himself into believing that you are curling in against him. That you are nuzzling into him for warmth, protection. 

It is not until your fingers faintly cling to the edges of his flannel that he realizes his fantasies were true. You are still alive. And you are reaching to him for comfort. 

He frantically shifts your broken body so he can cup your cheek and look into your eyes. “Y/N? Sweetheart, I need you to…” but his words trail off as your eyes flutter open. Your fearful eyes look up at him and it is a both the best and the worst thing Dean has ever seen.

“De-” you try and beg but your voice gives way to a painful whine as the full extent of your injuries come into awareness.

“No, shh… don’t try to speak, sweetheart. I got you,” Dean reassures you as he clutches you to his chest and lifts you both out of your would-be-coffin. “I got you.”

He carries you over to the Impala that is still waiting for him at front of the bar. Dean places you in the front seat beside him. Your body lulls into a weak heap against the leather. The light from inside the car means Dean is unable to avoid seeing the full extent of your injuries. Bruising. Blood. You are once again covered in wounds because he was unable to protect you. Because he once again left you behind. Never again. 

Dean is wrapped up in the idea of taking care of you, of fixing you – fixing what he broke. It doesn’t even occur to him that both his brother and father are missing as well. He only has thoughts of you.

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

_ The two hunters round the building with drawn guns. The sight they are met with will haunt them for the rest of their lives.  _

The back of Sam’s hand covers his mouth as if he is suppressing a wretch. John remains stiff but the hold he has on his gun falters for only a moment. 

You are laying on the ground. There are four men around you. Two at your sides. One at your back holding your head to the side by your hair. And one between your legs. Each one is using their mouths and their knives to drain you of your blood. 

Pure rage engulfs John as he raises his gun a little higher. He dives toward the men who are taking you away from him. Sam is only seconds behind his father. 

The hunters shoot at your attackers. They soon realize that bullets do not work against these creatures. Their eyes are glowing bright blue and John and Sam share a look. They are unequipped to fight off a group a Djinn. Djinn aren’t supposed to hunt in packs. They aren’t supposed to be this brazen, this brutal.

A hand-to-hand fight ensues but without a silver blade soaked in lamb’s blood, this is not a battle the hunters can win. The humans hold their own for longer than the creatures expected. 

Will is growing impatient. He fears that the gunshots and commotion will draw unwanted attention. He picks up Sam’s dropped gun and holds it to your head. You are unconscious and nearly dead but Sam and John stop fighting to prevent Will from pulling the trigger and making it official. 

“Let her go!” John roars.

Will lowers the gun and lets out a laugh. He looks down and nudges your limp body with his foot. “I would… but I don’t think she’s going anywhere on her own anytime soon.”

Sam lunges toward Will but is kicked in the back of his knees. He is forced to kneel before you and take in your broken form. 

“This has been fun boys, but we better get going.” Will gestures for his friends to subdue the Winchesters. The same blue wisps that paralyzed you, took effect over the other two hunters. They are powerless to stop it. The Djinn dragged Sam and John into Will’s truck. The Winchesters were unable to protest or see what is happening to you. 

Once the two men were secured, one of the creatures came around and gestured toward you. “What about that one?”

Will leans down and feels your pulse waning into nothing but a faint and dimming thump. “She’s almost gone. You boys done with her?” he asks sparing a glance to each of his abettors. Each man shrugs with indifference. “Well, alright then.” Will leans down to scoop you up off the ground. “Grab her stuff, will ya? And, open that dumpster.”

* * *

 

“No hospital,” you force your voice to say against the pain.

“Yes hospital! Y/N, you need more than a quick patch up job and I-”

“There’s another way, De please. They can’t help me.”

Within minutes Dean is lifting you up and out of the Impala. As he carries you into his motel room, he makes sure no nosey neighbours are around to interrupt him.

“I need Cat,” you whimper as Dean places you on his bed and starts wrapping your wounds.

“She’s fine, Y/N. Let me take of you.”

“No, I need her… I need her collar. She’s the other way.” Your body is starting to feel cold. A shiver has taken over and your words come out as more of a shudder than coherent sentences. 

Dean doesn’t want to leave you. You may be delirious from the blood loss if you think a cat is going to save you. You need a hospital. But your pleading eyes make him believe that you may be telling the truth. 

“I swear to god, Y/N. If you die before I get back… I will kill you!”

Dean’s stubborn and illogical threats have always made you smile. Except now your smile is weakened as your ability to remain conscious diminishes. “Hurry…please, De.” 

Dean kisses your forehead and lingers longer than he knows he should. But, the thought of letting you out of his sight again makes his stomach churn. Dean sprints across the parking lot to get Cat from your room. He berates himself for letting hope spring within him. He is putting his faith in a freaking cat to save the woman he loves. He must be just as delirious as you. 

Upon his return, Dean finds you unconscious but your clutching the motel’s branded notepad. He slaps your check and screams your name to no avail. As Dean checks your weakening pulse, Cat jumps on the bed and begins licking your wounds. Dean takes the paper from your bloodied grasp. His frenzied mind tries to make sense of your sloppy handwriting.

_ Collar. Pendant. Heart. _

_                               corpore sano. pars accipies de anima. x3 _

Dean forces his thoughts to still as he focuses on your message. He looks to Cat and unclasps her collar. He notices the small and delicate pendant that dangles from the string. He pulls it off and looks back at the message.  _ Heart _ . He puts the pendant over your heart and repeats the Latin phrase three times. 

Nothing happens for a moment that feels like an eternity. Impatience takes over. This is a waste of time, you need a hospital. He doesn’t even know what exactly he had just done. He knows the rough translation for the Latin and he doesn’t like the sound of it. Dean is about to scoop you up and take you back to the car when the pendant starts smoking. 

The iron ornament burns into your skin and starts disseminating throughout your body. The metal is turning your veins grey as it searches for your injuries. The gashes on your neck, wrists, and thighs burn bright red. You start convulsing. Dean holds your shoulders down in a vain attempt to keep you calm. Your body stills. It is  _ too _ still. Dean checks your pulse and fears that he will feel nothing. Instead, he feels your blood pumping at an erratic and inhuman pace. 

“Y/N! Come on, you got to open your eyes!” he begs. His hand is still keeping a constant monitor over your pulse when he feels it stop abruptly. His eyes widen in fear as he looks you over. Your wounds are healed. They have now scarred over and look as though you have had them for years. 

Your body shoots up into a seated position and you gasp for air. You cough and wheeze as you struggle to regain control over your lungs. Dean too regains his ability to breathe. The sight of your wide Y/E/C eyes allows him to let go of the breath he had been holding since he found you. You’re alive. 

He pulls you into his lap and lets you cling to him. Violent sobs wrack your body. Dean holds you tighter as your nails dig into his back. You need to believe that he’s really there. Dean’s arms secure themselves around you. He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t try and look into your eyes. He doesn’t try and kiss you. Holding you is enough. A thick and lonely tear cascades down his face and he squeezes you a little tighter. 

Neither of you are quite sure how long you’ve been like this. Neither care. 

At some point, your panting turned into slow, yet shuddering, breaths. You were regaining control. If only Dean could do the same. His firm grip on you cannot mask the fact he is still shaking with fear. His quick succession of thoughts is replaced with just one:  _ I almost lost her _ .

He feels your chest rise and fall against his and that is the only thing keeping him grounded.

You squirm in his hold but he isn’t ready to let you go yet. “Dean,” his name is hoarse in your throat but it feels good, familiar. You rub his shoulder to get his attention “Dean, I need to sleep.”

Dean pulls only far enough away to look into your eyes. They are tired and drooping but they’re open. You’re alive. Dean is about to lie you down and give you what you want when he looks between you. You are still caked in blood. Almost your entire body is sticky. There is dirt mixed in with the blood and although all your wounds are closed, he cannot leave you like this. 

Now that he has regained jurisdiction over his senses, he also notices you smell like the dumpster he found you in. The smell makes him sick. Not because of the actual odour, but because it reminds him of how he found you, how someone threw his precious girl away like she was mere trash.

“I know, sweet girl. But let me clean you up first. Let me take care of you.”

You nod sleepily. Dean hesitates but finally leaves the room to run you a bath. When he returns, you have let yourself drift off. He lifts your body from the bed and takes you into the washroom. You nuzzle against his warmth but even that sight isn’t enough to make Dean relax. He failed you. He didn’t protect you. 

He sits you on the edge of the tub but holds his arms out as you wobble with imbalance. He helps you get your dress off. The once delicate shade of yellow is now dark red and grey. He feels the urge to burn it but opts to simply throw it in the trash. 

He lowers you into the tub and begins running a damp washcloth along your stupefied limbs. You are almost in a catatonic state. Staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. The water around you has turned into a murky mixture of blood and dirt. It is making Dean’s cleaning efforts more difficult. 

Dean replaces the water but you refuse to move. He washes your hair, desperate for the sweet smell of honey it usually has. The bath takes longer than he anticipated but you don’t seem to mind. When he reaches over to pull you out, you grasp his arm. You examine his limbs, then his clothing. He is covered in almost as much blood as you were. He has been holding you ever since he found you and your blood has transferred onto him. 

“I’ll deal with me later, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed,” Dean is just now realizing his own soiled state.  But he needs to take care of you first. Your blood on his clothing feels like it is burning his skin but he  _ needs _ to take of you first. 

You lean over and push the flannel off his shoulders. He moves to protest but you simply shake your head. He gives into you and helps you remove the remainder of his tainted clothing. They fall in the trash next to your discarded dress. Dean gets into the tub behind you. You settle in between his spread legs and rest your head back on his chest. His arms surround you completely. Dean rests his forehead on your damp hair and breathes deeply. You smell like you. 

You will not slip away again. He will not push you away.

After a few moments, you pick up the wash cloth and run it along Dean’s arms. When he is cleared of all remnants of your attack, you lean back into him and just sit. No one moves to turn it into anything more. This is enough. 

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because when you open your eyes, you are in bed. You’re in one of Dean’s shirts and boxers. Cat is curled into your chest. You also feel the unmistakable presence of Dean Winchester holding your back. You are safe. 

You scratch Cat’s ear but turn around to face the other body behind you. He is very much awake. Inspecting you in your sleep. 

You comfortably stare at each other for a long moment. Each taking solace in the light breathing of the other. 

“I thought of you,” you confess.

Dean narrows his eyes with question.

“When I was laying there… while they were – I thought of you. You gave me peace.”

Dean lowers his forehead to yours and holds you tighter against him. 

“That night we found you… found you with him. The worst part of seeing you enter that room after two years wasn’t the guilt of leaving you behind. It wasn’t imagining all the things that you went through or the betrayal and hurt you must have felt. The worst part was seeing the smile on your face when you saw him. The wide genuine smile of pure trust and happiness. Something I haven’t seen since – something I haven’t been able to give you in a long time.”

The confession leaves you speechless. It had never occurred to you that Dean wanted to be your happiness. Dean wants to be your source of light. If only he knew. The only reason you forced yourself to stay conscious while you lied among the trash, was because you knew he would find you. You knew. 

“I know it’s selfish, Y/N. But, I need you.”

Dean has said those words to you before, back at the bunker. But it’s different this time. You believe him now. It is the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ you will ever get from a Winchester. Tears of pure warmth threaten to spill over. 

“I love you,” Dean admits. 

You pull your head back in shock, never expecting him to actually say the words. 

“I need you to know it’s true. I’m not expecting anything from you but you need to know. I need you to know.” There is no hint of a lie in his eyes. 

“I love you too, Dean. It’s always been you.” You move your hand up his chest and cling to the back of his neck. He pulls you in but doesn’t kiss you. He simply breathes you in. “Please,” you beg not caring about the desperation in your voice. 

This kiss is different. You can feel it in your bones. This man has seen the darkest corners of your mind and body and yet you have never felt as exposed as you do right now. The vulnerability you share with Dean in this moment no longer scares you. He won’t hurt you. He will protect you. And, you will protect him. Your life is his.

Dean rolls in over you and opens the shirt that is covering your chest. You arch toward him but he drops his forehead into the crook of your neck.  

“We can’t do this now, sweetheart.” The words physically pain him. He wants to take care of you, make you feel good, but he has a job to do. He raises his head to look you in the eyes, “Dad and Sam… we haven’t heard from them since they called me. I need to go find them. But I couldn’t – I had to make sure you were out of the woods before-”

You wrap your legs around Dean and pull him in for a kiss. When he goes to deepen it, you hum against him and shake your head. He pulls away and you untangle yourself from him. 

“That will hold us over until we find them. Come on,” you say as you get out of bed. You try to hide the fact you have wobbly legs but Dean notices. 

“We? Nuh uh, princess you’re staying here – out of harm’s way.” The demand is clear in his voice but you have never been good at following orders – just ask John. 

“Yes  _ we _ … they’re my family too.”

“Y/N, you were knocking on death door less than a few hours ago! That is, until your magical cat collar healed you – which I’m still expecting an explanation for by the way. But I’m not letting you put yourself in danger again.”

You let out a small laugh as you find some hunt-worthy clothing to wear. “I think we learned tonight that there is no escaping the danger. I’m in this. Whether I like it or not. Now, they need us and I’m not letting you go alone. You’re not alone, Dean. I’m with you, always.”

Every bone in his body is telling him to protest but your words give him a kind of security he has never known before. 

Dean crosses the room to stand in front of you. You stare up at him expecting further objections. Instead, he reaches down and starts buttoning up the flannel that you stole from his duffle bag. He rolls up the sleeves so they are a more appropriate length for your smaller frame and your hands can peek through. He will never stop loving the sight of you in his clothing.  

“Alright, you can come. But, you do what I say, when I say it. I say run, you run. I say leave us behind and save yourself and you will…” Dean tails off expecting you finish his command.

“Ummm… jump on the grenade?” you ask with a smile.

Dean does not find your joke funny. “I will tie you to a chair and leave you here. This is not a joke.”

“I know,” you say regretting your terrible attempt at humour. “But, just as much as you hate the idea of seeing me hurt… I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” Tears are welling in your eyes. He has to know you are in just as deep as him. 

Dean places one hand on your lower back and one under your jaw. “Nothing can touch us if we stick together. Bad things only seem to happen when we push each other away. I got you, Y/N... always.”

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Dean leaves the motel room while you gather supplies. He sneaks off to wipe Baby’s front seat clean of the blood you left behind. Neither of you need that reminder.

You busy about the room and gather anything and everything you might need. You’re halfway out the door when you hear Cat purring behind you. You turn and walk over to her.

“You’re a true Winchester now… saving the day and all.” You give her head a quick kiss before running out of the room.

You get into the Impala and settle in beside Dean. He pulls you closer so he can feel your leg resting against his. He needs you there.

“Corpore sano. pars accipies de anima?” Dean asks unable to contain the worry from seeping out with his words.

You look at your hands that are wringing in your lap. “Roughly… it translates to ‘Heal the body. Take a piece of the soul.’” You shrink your shoulders down in preparation for Dean’s anger.

“What the hell? Y/N!” he says straining to keep his eyes on the road. He must also hold himself back from strangling you.

“It’s not – don’t worry... it only takes a little bit. It doesn’t change me that much.” You try to pacify the boiling man beside you.

“ _Only takes a little_ ,” Dean mocks in anger. “Y/N! It’s your freaking soul, you know better than to mess with that shit! Wait… how do you know it won’t change you too much? Have you done this before?” He is now blatantly ignoring the road and staring wide eyed at you.

“Only once…” you maintain interest in your dirty fingernails.

“When? Why? How did you get your hands on that kind of magic?”

“Jonas-” you admit. Dean scoffs at the name but you ignore him and continue on with your explanation. “He was really old. He has been around a long time. A few decades ago, Jonas met a group of witches. They offered to trade him a couple of those charms if he protected them against some angry villagers. The pendants would heal him if he was ever on the brink of death. They could heal almost anything, except decapitation.” you say with regret. “He used a few over the years. But he said he never had to worry about the ‘take a piece of your soul’ part because he was a vampire.”

“Oh, but he had no problem giving it to _you_ and taking a piece of _your_ soul?” the anger is dripping out of Dean now and igniting your own. He is missing the point.

“He saved me! I… I died, Dean,” the last part came out in a guilty whisper. Dean slams on the break and turns to face you. You’re tracing the scars on your wrist with the pads of your fingers. “I died and he did what he had to do to bring me back without turning me.” The lump in your throat is threatening to cut off your air supply. “Things were bad at the beginning. I couldn’t handle it. I... I took my own life. Then, Jonas saved me. That day, he took a piece of my soul and I don’t regret his choice.” You look Dean in the eyes for the first time, “Today, I gave up a piece of my soul and I don’t regret that either. I get to live.” You breathe out a laugh as if the will to live is a foreign concept for you to experience. “I want to live… we get a second chance.”

Dean is trying to process all this information. “Listen to me,” the firmness in his voice leaves no room for negotiations. “You will never do that shit again. If you ever get yourself in trouble, I will fix it. Not you. It will be my soul on the line – not yours. Do you understand me?” Dean barked.

“No! Dean, if you even think about selling your soul for me… I swear to god! I will –“ but Dean cuts you off by gripping the back of your hair and pulling you toward his stern face.

“Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes” you stutter.

He eases his grip but doesn’t let you go as he kisses your forehead.

“When you say, ‘it doesn’t change you much’ what does that mean exactly? What is going to happen? Because I don’t need another ‘Soulless Sam’ wreaking havoc over everything.”

“I don’t know where my soul goes… but at most, I feel a little less inhibited. I don’t care as much what others think of me. I feel more liberated to do what I want.”

Dean nods but knows it could never be that simple.

You take his hand and look him in his eyes. “I have you… you can tell me if I’m being weird and need to reign myself in.”

“Yeah… you got me alright. And, that means as soon as we take care of these asshat Djinns, we’re looking into what the hell this actually means. We’re setting this straight. Until then, don’t use anymore of those creepy little charms.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. That was my last one.”

“Good,” Dean says as he repositions himself behind the wheel but pulls you in even closer than before. Your words are still ringing in his head. _I took my own life_. Those words will haunt him. Those words will keep him up at night and plague his nightmares. But, he has a job to do right now. He lets the subject lie for the time being, but he will never let it go. You _will_ talk about it after this hunt.

* * *

 

“You’re sure they were Djinn?” Dean says as he pulls into the parking lot of the local butcher shop.

“Very sure, but… I think they’re a new kind. They didn’t make me hallucinate they just-” you start to trail off and Dean cups your cheek.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Since they’re Djinns, we know how to kill them. And even if the silver and lamb’s blood doesn’t work, then I’ll just keep stabbing until there is nothing left.”

“Gross,” you wrinkle your nose but smile at his attempt to distract you from your memories.

“Wait here. I’ll be back with the blood in a minute.”

“No, I’m coming in with you,” you reach for the door but Dean leans over you and pulls it shut.

“Nope.”

“Dean, I’m here to help! You can’t lock me in the car! Quit trying to protect me,” you roll your eyes at his behaviour.

“Oh, I’m not protecting you… I’m protecting them,” Dean nods his head in the direction of the butcher shop. “The last time we needed lambs’ blood and you came with me to pick it up, you cried at all the dead animals. Then, yelled at the guy for simply doing his job. Especially now that I know your missing some of your soul… I don’t need you ripping the butcher’s head off for trying to make a living,” Dean says with a laugh.

You don’t find him funny. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Dean! Besides it’s not my fault… that psycho enjoyed his job a little _too_ much!”

“See… that is exactly why your waiting here.”

“The fuck I am,” you say as you wretch open the door and storm toward the back entrance to the butchery.

Dean quickly catches up but doesn’t try to change your mind again.

This butcher is just as creepy and enthusiastic as the last one. Dean can feel you simmering beside him as your teeth grind and your eyes narrow.

“Ah! There’s your product now… should only be a few minutes. We’re very efficient here!” the man with the blood-stained apron says passionately. There is way too much pride in his voice. Your face falls instantly when you see a lamb being led by a chain on her neck toward a windowless room. You move to run toward her but Dean holds you back. “Oh, honey, what’s got your panties in a twist?” the butcher addresses you with surprise in his voice.

You’re struggling against Dean but he won’t let you go. “I wouldn’t push her if I were you,” Dean warns the man.

After hearing an agonizing squeal from behind the closed door, you give up struggling. You’re too late. Dean straightens your hair with his fingers to sooth you. “I forgot my wallet in the car. Do mind getting it for me? I’ll take care of this. You don’t need to be here.”

You nod and take the keys from Dean. When you find his wallet on the front seat, you open it to pull out the cash you need. Instead of money, you pull out a worn picture of you and Dean. You thought he had erased you from his life but in reality, he kept you close to him at all times. You look at the happy people in the picture. You remember that day so clearly. Before you can stop yourself, your grinning like an idiot as the memories involuntarily flow through you.

* * *

 

“Dean, look what I found!” you say as you skip over to him.

Dean is packing up Baby outside of a house that is near ruin. You had just taken care of a simple salt and burn. Easy cases like this always boost everyone’s confidence, especially yours. You like feeling useful and capable.

“What do you got there, kid?” Dean asks with genuine curiosity. Your twenty-year-old brain still lets you get excited over the little things and it makes Dean feel warm inside. Your excitement is contagious.

“A polaroid camera! It’s still got film in it!” you say happily as you show Dean the awkward picture you had just taken of Sam without his permission.

“Hey! Don’t show people that, you little shit!” Sam says with a laugh as he snatches the picture away from you.

You pout and push Sam’s shoulder.

“Stealing from dead people, Y/N/N?” Dean asks as he dramatically sucks in air through his teeth. “That’s low… even for you.”

“Shut up! He won’t need it anymore and I don’t have any pictures of my boys,” you say pulling on Dean’s arm. “Take a picture with me!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You jump on Deans back and he instinctively grips your legs to keep you from falling. You throw the camera at Sam. “Quick take our picture before Dean starts getting grumpy again!” you yell at Sam as you grip Deans hair and force his smiling features to look up at the camera.

* * *

 

“You got it yet, sweetheart?” Dean asks from behind you.

“Uh… yeah,” you put the picture back in its place and hand him the wallet. Dean races off to pay for the final ingredient you need to take these blue bastards down. When he returns to the car, you lean over and capture his lips in a searing kiss.

“Not that I’m complaining… but what was that for?”

“You’re just… I don’t know. You surprise me is all,” you shrug before retreating to your side of the car.

Dean places the blood-filled container by his feet, and far away from you, before he revs the engine.

“Ugh… why is it always the blood of sweet baby lambs? Why can’t these rituals ever call for ‘Blood of Rapist’ or something like that?” you ask mostly to yourself but Dean hears you and laughs.

“If only, sweetheart. Until that day, you let me take care of this kind of crap, yeah?”

You nod and smile up at Dean. He will take care of you. You are a team.

* * *

 

“Sam? Sam!” John calls to his son who is chained to the chair next to him. Sam lulls into awareness and starts struggling against his restraints. “Easy son, don’t wear yourself out right now,” John attempts to calm Sam’s frantic efforts.

“Y/N?” he asks with wide eyes.

John shakes his head solemnly, “She’s not here. I don’t know where-“

But John is cut off when four familiar men come laughing into the room.

“Hey! You’re awake! My name is Will, it’s a pleasure to have you both here. Hunters are a rare delicacy,” the Djinn greets.

“John. John Winchester. I would shake your hand but I’m a little tied up at the moment.” John returns Will’s greeting while motioning to his restraints.

The faces of the four creatures fall instantly. That is the exact reaction John was expecting.

“Winchester?” one of the background men pipes up with a slight hitch in his voice.

John smirks and nods.

Will runs a frustrated hand down his face, “God damn it.”

“Wait… Winchester? Aren’t there supposed to be three of them?” the fear is rising in the Djinn’s tone.

John and Sam laugh in unison.

“You idiot!” Will swings his fist and hits his accomplice. “Everyone knows you don’t take just one or two Winchesters… you take them all out or you run for the hills!”

“That’s right,” John says with so much arrogance you would not know he was actually helplessly tied to a chair. “You can’t leave one of us alive because then you’ll just piss us off. See, now you’ve made this personal. And, Dean won’t stop until you’re all dead. But um… you were wrong about one thing. There aren’t three of us, there’s four actually.”

“Who? Oh, please tell me you are talking about Y/N!”

John narrows his eyes at the man who dares speak your name. The men around him start laughing.

“What a relief! Well… that’s one down and three to go! We took her out easy enough. If you guys are half as weak as her, then your reputation is all talk and this will be easier than we thought.”

“Where the hell is she?” Sam roars his question.

“We tossed her in the nearest dumpster like the Winchester trash she is… or was.” Will says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry about her now. There’s no saving her. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about yourselves right about now.”

The four Djinn descend on the two hunters. John and Sam are eased into a magic-induced hallucinatory coma.

  



	15. Chapter 15

Four empty warehouses. You’re starting to believe that these Djinn may not hide out in the usual places. You exit Baby once more to inspect yet another foreclosed slaughterhouse.

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be the first time that monsters decided to switch things up. We should start looking in other types of places and maybe even-”

“If you suggest we split up, I will duct tape your mouth shut for the rest of the hunt,” Dean interrupts. You bite your lip and shrug apologetically. “We’ve only got three more to check after this. We’ll do quick sweep. Then, we’ll think of something else if we don’t find anything. Alright, sweetheart?”

You nod and move in to step ahead of Dean and begin your search. But, he pulls you back to stay behind him. You look over at him and realize that he doesn’t even know what he’s done. His instincts tell him to protect you. His behaviour is automatic. Normally, that would make your stomach flutter with love-struck butterflies. But, as a hunter, his willingness to put your life above his own, scares you more than you thought possible.

“Dean!” you tug on his sleeve and take off down one of the corridors. 

“God damn it, Y/N!” Dean exclaims as he tries to catch up it you. He wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still.

He is about to admonish you, when you raise your index finger to your lips. You then point toward the long plastic flaps that divide the hallway. There are faint sounds of laughter coming from the other side. Still wrapped up in his arms, Dean pulls you away from the door and back toward the entrance. 

“What the hell, Dean! They’re in there! I know those laughs… it’s them,” you try to mask the fear in your voice but Dean knows you too well. 

Dean tries to think of the best way to keep you safe, away from the men who nearly killed you only a few hours ago. “You’re our secret weapon, Y/N. You go in there, guns blazing and we lose the element of surprise. They think your dead. We can use that,” Dean is proud of his quick thinking. But, you can see through him. 

“You can’t keep me from this fight. I deserve to kick a little blue tattooed ass for what they did to me!” Dean can see the bitterness in your eyes and hopes it because of mere anger and not the little piece of missing soul. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I got a plan.”

* * *

 

Letting himself get captured was a dumb plan. Even for a Winchester. 

Dean’s acting skills are a little over the top. When the Djinns  _ thought  _ they had caught the final Winchester off guard, Dean really played up the ‘woe is me’ angle. He almost gave the jig away. But he was doing it to make you smile and reassure you that he was fine. 

You creep behind the men while they attempted to wrangle the thrashing Winchester. You slink into the room in which they were in previously, hoping that’s where they are keeping John and Sam. To both your horror and delight, they are there.  

They are unconscious. IVs are draining them of their livelihood. You were hoping that they would be conscious, like you were when you were attacked, because that would make things a lot easier. You pull the IVs from both men. 

You shake John’s shoulder in a vain attempt to wake him up. A soft whimper escapes his lips, “Mary.”

You reel back in fear for what the poor man was being forced to relive. There is no time for you to go dream walking through the hunters’ minds and wake them up. They have to get themselves out. 

You hear exuberant shouting from down the hall and realize Dean is trying to warn you of their approach. In a panic, you slap John’s cheek in hopes that it would spring him awake. It was satisfying but, unfortunately, did nothing to help his unconscious state. 

You crouch behind John in hopes that his hulking frame will hide you from the nearing creatures. 

While you hide, you work at untying the hunter’s binds. When he does wake up, you will need him to be ready to pounce. 

Dean is dragged into the room with a split lip and a cut beneath his left eye. He searches the room for you but only sees you peak your head out from behind his father’s back. He shakes his head vehemently at you and you retreat back into your hiding place. 

Dean licks his split lip and smiles up at the monsters who are tying him to a chair on the other side of the room. “So, I got to ask… what am I in for? You going to let me hallucinate my wildest fantasy? I mean, if you take requests, I would sure love for you to send me some place warm. Maybe throw in a slice of pie and my girl. I’m a simple man, I don’t need much else.” 

“Your girl?” Will questions with pleasurable curiosity.

“Yep, you know what… I don’t want to be greedy. You can keep the pie. But I want my girl someplace warm, somewhere where bikinis are the mandatory dress code.” You roll your eyes at Dean’s overtly frisky behaviour. Although, you can’t help but think how nice that sounds. Maybe a vacation isn’t such a bad idea. 

The Djinn just laughs at Dean. 

“Dean Winchester, I recognize you. I’ve been in  _ your girl’s _ head.” 

Dean narrows his eyes at Will. All playfulness is lost. 

“I’d hate to break it to you, but I don’t see long walks on the beach in your future. Your girl is dead.”

“Huh, well… that sucks,” Dean quips knowing you are alive and well. 

Will’s face falls, “That’s it? That’s all I get? Come on man, I tell you Y/N is dead and you just shrug it off. Am I missing something or do you have another side piece that you were referring to?”

Dean laughs, “No, there’s no other  _ side piece _ , but you know… no point dwelling on the past.”

“Funny, that’s not what we got from Y/N,” Will says with a wicked smile. You don’t like where this is going. “You see… my brothers and I are not your typical Djinn. Our father was the type who granted fantasies, our mother fed off nightmares. We do both. We give you what you’ve always wanted then we feed off the fear of having it ripped away. The pain makes the blood all the sweeter.”

Dean scoffs. “You’re the bastard off-shoot… of the bastard off-shoot! Sucks to be you. It’s one thing to be a freak but to be a freak among freaks – that’s just sad.”

Sometimes you wish Dean could keep his mouth shut. Taunting monsters is a hobby of his but it fills you with fear every time he does it. He’s tied to a chair and damn near helpless. One of these days he’ll push them too far.

“You’re missing the point, Dean,” Will says barely restraining his anger. “Your girl was fully conscious when we killed her. We didn’t need to put her under, like we did with those two.” Will gestures toward Sam and John. You crouch down to make yourself even smaller. “When I met her at the bar, I could smell it on her. She already had everything she wanted – you. And… it was already ripped away from her.”

Dean could only glare daggers at the men. But, you could also see near imperceptible nuances of regret on his features. 

“It’s only happened once or twice before, where we find someone so pathetic and broken that we don’t need to use our mystical mojo. She was damn fine. Satisfying. Filled us up good. That’s why we’re taking you guys to go. Blood bags aren’t as fun as straight from the source but your girl left us plenty sated,” Will shrugs.

The air must have shifted because each Djinn start snickering. Will looks back at his brothers with a knowing look. Dean’s steeled features cannot mask the guilt that is giving his blood a tantalizing smell. Will cannot resist the urge to push Dean a little farther, make his blood even sweeter before they take it. 

“I guess we have you to thank, Deano! We took a look into your girl’s memories to see what it was that made her so special. We saw that little blue box you threw at her.” Will smiles wickedly when Dean’s eyes snapped up at him in anger. 

“Dick move, man,” one of the other Djinn pipes up. “I mean, you do know she wanted to have kids… your kids, right?”

“She’d never admit it, even to herself, but she wanted a family with you.” Will picks up where his brother left off. You squeeze your eyes shut. You’re embarrassed but also you hate that Dean is finding out this way. You’re afraid to look over at him. You know he is internally berating himself for what he’d done and you can’t bear to see that kind of hurt in his eyes.

“You broke her. You let her believe she was never going to be good enough for you. She died knowing you would never want her. She died thinking you will always choose slutty waitresses over her.” Will laughs to himself, “She thought she was too rough with you and she scared you away.”

“Too unworthy for you to ever love back.” Will’s brother adds. 

You cannot stop the silent tears from falling. All of your fears and insecurities are being laid bare without your consent. The Djinn had violated your mind and are now using your darkest thoughts to hurt Dean. 

Dean has been stunned into silence for longer than you are comfortable with. You miss the cocky and reassuring Dean. 

“Cat’s go your tongue?” the Djinn sniffs the aurora surrounding Dean and smiles. “Almost there, boys. Two broken souls in one night… a new record! He just needs one more push.” 

Will smiles and knows exactly what will send him over that sweet edge. “I know you must be curious… about those scars of her. Particularly, the ones she gave herself after you-”

“Enough!” you scream as you jump up from behind John. You finally have a clear view of Dean’s face. His eyes are wide and full of unshed tears but you don’t have time to comfort him. You have just given yourself away. There are now four dumbfounded Djinn looking at you.  

“Well… this is a surprise. Last time we saw you, you were about to punch in your time card, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Will smiles, “I don’t know how you’re still standing but I don’t really care either. This will make pushing Dean over the edge all the easier. Plus, this gives my brothers and me the chance to have a different kind of fun that we didn’t have time for earlier.”

You are suddenly all too aware that you are outnumbered and the Winchesters are in no position to help you. You will be damned if you let these freaks use you to hurt Dean any more than they already have. 

You draw your bloodied knife and approach the men. Dean is now violently struggling against his restraints so you don’t have to take on this fight alone. The smiling men are not advancing on you, so you take a chance and bolt over to Dean. You grasp his bound hands. But, before you can cut him free, strong arms wrap around you and pull you away. 

Your arms are pinned to your sides, so you kick your feet in an attempt to loosen you assailant’s grip over you. Your knife is ripped out of your hand and you are thrown onto the floor right at Deans feet.

You push on your hands but are forced down onto your stomach by a bony knee pushing into your back. You don’t know which man is holding you down but he shifts himself so he is straddling your lower thighs. He places a hand in your hair to hold your face down so you are forced to look over in Dean’s direction. His other hand comes up and pushes just under the hem of your shirt. You squirm but there is nowhere for you to go. 

“Touch her and die,” the threat is clear in Dean’s voice. It even scares you a little.

“Shit!” Among the commotion, the creatures had not noticed that the eldest Winchester had begun to stir as their mystical poison was wearing off. You had freed John from his restraints while you hid behind him, and it turns out your wishful thinking had paid off. 

John grabs your discarded weapon and plunges it into the heart of the nearest Djinn. He is still disoriented and weak so he wobbles at the sudden exertion of energy. He doesn’t have time to regain his footing before two more Djinns approach and attempt to subdue him. 

John is not at full capacity so he takes more hits than he usually would. The Djinn pinning you down is detracted by the bustling behind him which gives you the opportunity to push him off. He reaches to regain control over you but you snap his fingers back before his grubby hands can paw at you again. He shrieks in pain and reels back, giving you the opportunity to rush over to Dean and free him from his binds. 

“Where’s your knife?” you ask as you loosen his ropes. John is using your blade to handle the other two Djinn. You and Dean have nothing with which to protect yourselves. Dean doesn’t seem to care though. The second his wrists are freed he takes your cheeks in both his large hands and rests his forehead against yours. 

You allow the comfort of his touch to distract you from the danger that surrounds you both.

“What they said-” Dean starts to question you with a broken voice. 

“Shh, De. Monsters lie.” The only thing worse than all those things being true, is Dean knowing that they are true. This is a conversation for another time.

Suddenly, Dean pushes you aside as the Djinn with the broken hand lunges for your back. Dean tackles your assaulter and lands one too many punches onto the creature’s reddening face.  

“Son!” John yells from across the room. He slides the only weapon across the floor so Dean can use it against the Djinn beneath him. In one swift and stern movement Dean lowers the blade into the Djinn. The monster is gone with one last gurgled breath. 

With rage in his eyes, Dean raises from the floor and runs to help his father who is still struggling to fend of the two remaining creatures. 

During this time, you have slipped back to go free Sam and coax him from his internal hell. Now that the creatures are dying and focusing their efforts on fighting off the conscious Winchesters, their magic is dwindling and Sam is waking up.

You free him from his confines. You cup his lulling head to give him stability. The pain in his eyes is searing and you can only imagine the things he was forced to see. Once you see Sam is capable of holding himself up, you run out of the room to search for Dean’s weapon that must have been left behind when he was captured.

When you re-enter the room, the third Djinn is dead but John is laying on his side clutching his bleeding ribs. Will is now in procession of your silver blade and is backing a bloodied Dean Winchester into a corner. In his weakened state, Sam rushes over to aid his weaponless brother but is immobilized by blue mist. Will raises his leg and kicks Sam in the chest. Sam collapses into a limbless heap but still stares at his brother with fear in his eyes. He is unable to move or help. 

Despite his injuries, John crawls toward his son. Never giving up. But, you are faster. Will raises the blade and smiles at Dean who is pinned against the wall with magic. You step in front of Dean at the last moment and the room falls silent except for the sickening sound of the knife tearing into the soft flesh of your stomach. 

The shock of what just happened prevents you from registering your own injuries. The knife in your hand clatters to the ground. The only thing that brings you back into awareness is the gut wrenching sound of Dean’s scream. For a moment, you fear that he had been hurt himself but as the unmistakable taste of metallic crimson forms on your tongue, you realize his screams are for you. 

Will pulls the knife out of you with such force you fall to the ground instantly. Will licks the blade. He then raises it to finish you off and make sure you stay dead this time. Dean can only watch. His violent struggles against the mystical binding prove to be fruitless. He doesn’t fight the tears and isn’t above begging the Djinn to take him instead. 

Will only laughs before responding, “Don’t worry, I’ll be taking you all. But I’m going to make you this watch first,” Will leans in close to Dean and grabs the back of his neck for emphasis. “This is for what you did to my brothers,” his venomous voice breathes out lowly in Dean’s ear. 

Before he can land the final blow onto your waiting body, John comes up behind Will. John twists Will’s arm around and forces the blade to penetrate the creature chest. The Djinn turns and stares up at John with wide eyes. The look of pure rage on John’s features lets Will know that it is over. John grasps the weapon’s handle and twists it further into his foe’s chest, never once breaking eye contact. Will’s eyes flash with sapphire one last time before his lifeless body crashes to the floor. 

Once the threat to his children is gone, John slumps over and clutches his ribs once more. The second Will died, his magic failed and the two Winchester sons were released. 

Dean dives to your side and rests your head on his lap. Your eyes are fluttering and your choking on the blood that is staining your teeth red. “Get the car!” Dean screams to anyone who is listening. He needs to get you to a hospital. 

A firm hand rests on Dean’s shoulder. He looks up to see his father looking down at him. He has never seen his father cry but the unshed tears in John’s eyes will eventually fall. Dean knows that can only mean one thing. John painfully kneels beside his son but doesn’t say a word. There is nothing to say. There’s nothing they can do. 

Sam raises from his place on the floor. He looks down at his broken family. He feels his lip quiver with the understanding that you aren’t leaving here alive. 

“Why did you do it?” Dean asks with a shaky breath as his one hand hesitantly hovers over your wound while the other cups your cheek. You try to respond but can only choke on the blood that is coating your throat. Dean bends over to rest his forehead against yours. “It should have been me! Why did you do it, sweetheart? It should have been me,” Dean is no longer talking to you but whispering to himself. You know that he will drown in guilt and regret over your death and that’s the last thing you’d ever want. You want him to be happy. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

You swallow the blood that that is forming in your mouth. It’s disgusting. It burns. But you need tell him. He needs to understand. Your shaking hand leaves your wound to cup Dean jaw. You can feel the blood pouring out faster, so you have to be quick. But you need him to listen. You voice is hoarse at first but you force yourself to be heard, to be understood. “The world needs Dean Winchester. Not me. It’s better for everyone. I love you, De.” 

You spare a glance at John and Sam hoping that the smile you offer them is not as sad and broken as it feels. “Don’t let him-” but you cannot finish telling them your final wish because the cold takes you over. You’re shivering has caused more blood to clog your throat. You look back up at Dean wanting nothing more than his face to be last thing you ever see. You slip away feeling a sense of peace. His watery green eyes bare into you and you now feel warm. You feel loved. 

When your eyes close for the final time, Dean screams your name as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back. John held his son’s trembling shoulders as Dean clutched your limp body securely in his arms. Sam shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in pure denial. John tried to steel himself for his sons but a single thick tear escaped the confines of John’s stubbornness. You were not a daughter by blood but a daughter by choice. He failed you in more ways than one. 

No one dared move. No one knows how long they have stayed in this position. Dean’s head snapped up, startling what was left of his family. He gathered you in his arms and strode with purpose out of that godforsaken building. 

John and Sam caught up to him as he was lying you down in the backseat of Baby. Dean started moving toward the driver’s door. John grasps Dean’s shoulder and forces him to turn around. “What do you think you’re doing?” John says with the fear that he already knows the answer. 

“Dean, don’t do this,” Sam says also realizing his brother’s intentions. 

“She was wrong,” is all Dean can say as his jaw tightens and he reigns in another bout of tears. 

“No, she wasn’t.” Sam’s soft voice breaks the silence.

Dean lunges for his brother and pins him up against the car, “How the hell can you say that? Her or me? It’s a no brainer, Sammy!” Dean growls. 

John pulls Dean off his brother. “No, Dean!” the command is clear but Dean is through listening to his father. He turns to get in the car but John holds him back. “No! You heard what she said,” John’s voice starts to waver so he braces himself to continue, “She said, don’t let him-”

“That could mean anything,” Dean deflects.

“No, Dean,” Sam interjects not afraid of another attack. “She didn’t want you to do this. You don’t need to go to a crossroads or make a deal to avenge her. You can’t make this better. That will only make it worse. If she comes back and realizes what you’ve done… don’t put her through that,” Sam says knowing exactly what kind of burden that is. 

“I can’t just let her go,” Dean’s voice falters.

“She’s already gone,” John reminds his son regrettably. 

With a strangled scream, Dean forces both of his fists against Baby’s back window. He freezes in fear when he sees the glass shatter and land across your lifeless body. For a split second, he feared the glass would hurt you. But, nothing can hurt you anymore. 

Sam and John stand back in shock but Dean doesn’t care. He opens the backdoor and crawls in beside you. He is sitting on the broken glass but doesn’t register the pain. He pulls you into his lap and holds you. He remembers the last time you were in the backseat together. The way you laughed. The way you cried out in pleasure. Sounds he will never hear again. 

Your limp neck makes your head lull against his shoulder as he adjusts you on top of him. He rests his face in your hair and breathes you in. 

As John and Sam get in the car and begin to drive away, Dean pulls out his wallet. He stares at the picture that has provided him with comfort for years. Dark nights of missing you. Drinking himself into a stupor for letting you walk out that motel door two years ago. That picture gave him security. He takes your bloodied hand in his. He curls your fingers around photo and places it on your chest. His happiness is yours. It has always been yours. He doesn’t deserve soothing memories or consoling mementoes.

He needs to feel this. All of this. He failed you. You were his responsibility. 

Dean holds you tighter and kisses your forehead. He looks into the front seat and tries to believe what his father and brother begged of him. He looks back down you. He knows what he has to do. He will not fail you again.  

* * *

 

The petite brunette in the little black dress was the first to break the kiss. She looks at Dean with a perplexity doused with irritation. She pulls him in for another. Once again, nothing happened. 

She pulls away and drags her thumb across her bottom lip. Her face contorts into a wicked smile. “Sorry sugar. Looks like this deal is above my pay grade.”

“Then find me someone else!” Dean roars at the demon standing in front of him.

A slight twinge of fear flashes across the demon’s stolen face. “No can do. When I say, ‘above  _ my _ pay grade’ I mean demons in general. No one can grant your deal, sweet cheeks. There is not enough left of your girl to bring back,” the demon taunts.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean rumbles. 

“I don’t know,” the demon flicks her wrist as she walks the edge of the devils trap she is confined within. “Something about there not being enough of her soul left to stuff back into her tight little body.”

“The – the spell-”

“Yep… there is some dark magic keeping her soul away from even my grasp. You see, magic like that is misleading. It didn’t just  _ take  _ her soul, but fed on it. Used it up like an energy source. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Sorry Hun, but there’s nothing even I can do.” The sly smile the demon is sporting tells Dean her apology is insincere. She is loving this. 

“But there has to be something left… she was fine. She was still the girl I knew – she wasn’t some soulless monster. There has to be something left.” Dean doesn’t even try hiding the pain in his voice. He knows the demon can smell the desperation within him so there’s no point in denying it. 

“That, I reckon, has more to do with you. She was teetering on the edge. But, the lightness of your bonded souls kept her grounded – let her remain the girl you knew, the girl you loved.”

“Then we’ll do that again! Bring her back and we’ll share-”

“Doesn’t work like that, sugar. Have you not been listening? There’s not enough left of her to bring back. But let’s say I could… what will happen when your time is up and my pups come to drag you to hell. Your soul would be mine and she would disintegrate into the very monster she spent her pathetic little life fighting.”

Dean cannot respond. His mind is scrambling for a loophole but is coming up with nothing. 

“Are we done?” the exacerbated demon asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean says lowly as he forces the demon knife into the meat suit’s stomach.

* * *

 

Fifty-one hours. Dean has been awake for fifty-one hours straight. 

He left Sam and John shortly after he returned empty handed from the crossroads. John was pissed when he figured out where his son had gone. Dean didn’t care. He just needed to get away. He needed to be alone. 

In his hazed state, Dean didn’t realize that Cat had followed him out of the motel room and gotten into the car with him. He almost pulled over and left her at the side of the road. Dean doesn’t think he deserves the comfort her purrs inexplicably provide him with. But, then he thought of you. You would come back just to haunt his ass if he let anything happen to that freaking cat. 

So, Dean and Cat have been on the road for the past fifty-one hours.  

He figures they must have burned your body by now. But Dean has consumed enough alcohol in the past two days to keep those images at bay. The thought of you burning is too much to bear. 

He has been driving with an absent mind for an indeterminable amount of time. He doesn’t know where he is or what day of the week it is. Dean is broken out of his fatigued daze when he hears his phone ringing. He pulls Baby over to the side of the road. Sam’s name flashes over his phone but Dean quickly silences it.

Dean can no longer fight the urge to rest his head back against the seat. He has been forcing himself to stay awake ever since you left him. He knows what awaits him if he lets his subconscious take control. Nightmares of you being gutted right in front of him. He’ll hear you scream. He’ll hear you choke on your own blood. He’ll feel your grip loosen on him as you slip away. Over and over those memories will plague his sleeping mind. At least when he’s awake he has some semblance of control over his thoughts. 

But, as he feels the soothing breath and soft snores of the cat sleeping on his lap, his consciousness wanes. He is lulled into a deep sleep. 

But the nightmares never came. He feared he would be forced to watch your death on repeat but instead he saw only your life. His subconscious mind didn’t torture him with memories of darkness. He saw only light. He dreamt of the night he knew you were his. 

_ “What the fuck are you doing?” Dean barks as he sees you standing barefoot on Baby’s hood.  _

_ “Just enjoying the view,” you reply never looking at Dean but staring straight up into the sky. _

_ Dean rushes over and takes you by the hips and pulls you off of his precious car. When your firmly on the ground, he inspects Baby’s shining ebony. When he sees that the paint is clear of any marks he turns back toward you. He is ready to chastise you, you know better than to mess with Baby.  _

_ But when he turns to face you, you are still staring into the sky. He follows your gaze. You are in some crappy town where even street lamps are a rare occurrence. So, as Baby is parked in a wooded clearing there is no artificial light to obscure the stars. The moon is not quite full but is pure ivory. The brightness of the stars almost makes you have to squint even though it is the middle of the night.  _

_ “I’ve never seen the sky like this before.” There is a sense of wonder in your voice that breaks Dean’s focus away from the night’s sky and onto you. There is a small smile on your lips and Dean doesn’t think you even know it’s there.   _

_ You are too caught up in your stargazing, that you do not realize that Dean has moved away from you. He clears his throat and you look over to find that he has kicked off his boots and socks. He is now standing barefoot on Baby’s hood, just like you were moments ago. He has a hand extended out for you. You slip your fingers into his and he helps you up onto the hood to stand beside him.  _

_ He doesn’t remove his hand from yours. Your fingers curl into each other’s. You both completely ignore the sky as you find a different sense of wonder in the eyes of the other. His green eyes burn into you. You shift your gaze upward to focus back on the stars. But, you move in closer to Dean so the warmth of his chest can shield you from the cool nighttime air.  _

_ Dean’s eyes never met the sky again. He spent the rest of the night watching you shine.   _

  
  



End file.
